Streetlife
by DodgerNYC
Summary: Sequel to Departure. He's alone on the streets, but are Dodger's friends moving on without him? Annie's puppies are growing up, Oliver likes to be with the Foxworths' new girl cat, and Dodger could be in love himself. But being a street dog means facing the harsh realities of streetlife - namely, rival gangs of dogs who are anything but friendly. Who can be trusted on the streets?
1. The Dodge Returns

Chapter One

The city's hundreds and hundreds of enormous, steel-gray skyscrapers loomed over the streets below, which were frantic with congested traffic, backed up all the way from SoHo to Harlem. Impatient drivers hurled crude insults at each other without a second thought, pesky street vendors advertised their goods as obnoxiously as they could, rude citizens bumped into one another in packed crowds, and a million car horns honked so loudly they could be heard all the way over in Queens. Just another peaceful summer day in New York City.

If you cut from the Upper West Side across Central Park, you would come out on the affluent Fifth Avenue, and if you ventured up past the Metropolitan, you would come upon a grand mansion on the corner of East 94th Street. This mansion - picturesque flower beds below the numerous fancy windows, a tiled enclosure and small yard in the back with a fire escape on the side - was home to one of New York's many wealthy families, the Foxworths.

A little red-headed girl named Jennifer Foxworth sat in her family's living room upon a luxurious couch with silk pillows. She had an orange-furred young cat laying contently in her lap; around his neck was a blue collar with a golden nametag that read _OLIVER_.

"Mommy! Oliver wants to know when Daddy will be back!" the girl asked her mother as she joined her daughter in the living room.

"Well, Jenny, you may tell Oliver that Daddy will be home from his business any minute now," Mrs. Mary Foxworth beamed at her beloved nine-year-old daughter.

Jenny stroked her cat's fur and told him in a motherly tone of voice, "You hear that, Oliver? Daddy will be home soon!"

Oliver purred happily at the news - he knew just how happy Jenny was to have her parents home on a more regular basis. Nowadays, their business trips were few and far between, and Jenny loved it that way.

"Hey, Oliver, do you know when your best friend will come over again?" Jenny asked her cat, "I love whenever he visits!"

"That dog comes and goes whenever he pleases, sweetie. I wouldn't hold your breath," her mother advised, sitting down next to Jenny on the sofa and giving her a warm hug.

"I know, Mommy," Jenny beamed, "But I'll wait for him anyways!"

Oliver rubbed his head against Jenny affectionately and purred, then hopped down from her lap and walked over to the window. With a quick jump, the young cat was up on the windowsill.

"You just drop by whenever we're least expecting you, huh?" Oliver meowed to himself with a smile. He knew his best friend and big brother was a creature of whim who went wherever he wanted whenever he wanted, and no one would ever tell him otherwise. The orange cat licked his front paw and began cleaning his head and ears, "I hope you're okay, out in the big city all by yourself… Ah, what am I saying? You'll be fine. After all, you're New York's coolest quadruped, aren't you?"

From across the living room, Oliver heard Jenny cry out joyfully, "He's here! He's here!" and for a second, Oliver thought she meant the dog had indeed come to pay them a visit. But he soon heard the sound of Jenny's father walking through the front door into his mansion.

"Hello, everyone!" David Foxworth greeted his wife, daughter, cat, and butler.

"Good afternoon, sir. My, you're certainly in good spirits! Did you strike up another marvelous business deal?" the family butler, Winston, asked as he closed the door behind Mr. Foxworth.

"Not quite why I'm happy, old boy! Jenny, I've got a surprise for you! And you too, Mary! Oh, yes, and _especially _for Oliver!"

His wife and daughter ran over to see what he had for them. The man had Oliver's attention as well now, so the cat leapt down from the windowsill to see just what this "surprise" that Mr. Foxworth had brought was.

* * *

Further down from Fifth Avenue, towards Lower Manhattan, was an area of the city called Chelsea, and in the middle of Chelsea was a relatively-inexpensive apartment complex. A female saluki dog with bushy brown hair on her head and ears walked down the city sidewalk with two younger mutt girl dogs, not really older than puppies. The three of them came to the building and entered the doggy door of one of the ground-floor apartments.

"Why hello there, senoritas!" a little Chihuahua greeted the three girls as they came into the living room. He jumped down from the couch and ran up to them, giving an exaggerated bow, "Welcome back to our old man's lavish new living quarters! Hee hee!"

"This place isn't exactly lavish, Tito," the saluki laughed at his enthusiasm, then looked around at the one bedroom, tiny kitchen, laundry room, closet, and bathroom of Fagin's cheap new apartment, "But it certainly is the nicest place the gang has ever had to live in."

"We are indeed fortunate," an English bulldog addressed the girls in his proper English accent, "Welcome back, Rita, Honey, and Kitty dear. Oh, and do not mind Tito. He's simply a little energetic after his _naptime_."

The gray bulldog smirked after the last word, causing Tito the Chihuahua to fly into a fit of rage, "Hey! That was my beauty sleep, Frankie! Every luchador must rest before his next fight! But if ya' ask me, _you _need tha' beauty sleep more than I do!"

"You are no luchador," the English bulldog glared daggers at Tito, "And I am no Frankie. My name is _Francis_!"

"FRANCIS, FRANCIS, FRANCIS!" Honey, one of the mutt puppies, shouted in a mock-English accent. Her sister Kitty giggled in delight.

"Oh, go bother Einstein, you little troublemakers," Francis barked at the two girls, but chucked to himself as they ran off cheering, "Einstein! Daddy! Daddy!"

Honey and Kitty darted over to the old Great Dane asleep on the couch. Einstein laughed as the girls jumped up on him and were quickly joined by their brother, Stud. Rita, Tito, and Francis smiled at the sight of old Einstein happily playing with the three pups.

"Just look at them," Rita beamed at them, "Even at his old age, Einy is a great father."

"Yeah, ya' would never know he isn't their actual- ," Tito started to say.

"He _IS _their actual father," Rita corrected the Chihuahua, "Einy loves Annie's puppies like he loved poor Annie."

The three of them were silent for a moment, saddened by at the mention of the puppies' late mother. Tito, naturally, broke the silence, "So where did you three get back from, Rita?"

"Oh, I took Honey and Kitty to run around Chelsea Park," the saluki explained, referring to the park conveniently close to their apartment building, "Y'know, for a little girl time."

Tito made an over-the-top gagging sound, which Rita chose to ignore, and then Francis asked her, "Say, while your were out, did you happen to run into our… shall I say, aloof friend?"

"Ooh, yeah, haven't seen _him _in a while!" Tito yipped, then grinned from ear to ear, "He's probably out flirting with all tha' ladies, stealin' all tha' food in tha' city!"

"No, I didn't run into him," Rita said rather nonchalantly, blatantly ignoring Tito's comment, "But if I know him, he's gonna' show up right when we least expect- "

"Exceedingly-attractive an' charmin' heartthrob, tha' Prince of Thieves, tha' King of New York, tha' one-an'-only Artful Dodger!" a smooth, cocky voice proclaimed as it entered through the doggy door, "Enter stage right."

"Dodger! Dodger!" Stud woofed.

"Big Brother!" Honey and Kitty squealed happily.

"And so, the Dodge returns…" Rita said with an exasperated sigh, but she couldn't help grinning like everyone else upon seeing her old friend again.

"Well, I'm glad I at least got a grin from ya', Rita baby!" Dodger laughed, flashing her a flirtatious grin of his own. But Rita knew full well Dodger was only joking around, as he always did.

"Hello, Einstein! Have my little brothers an' sisters been behaving for ya'?" he asked the gray Great Dane as he too came up to greet Dodger.

"Oh, yes, they're… uh… very well-behaved," the slow old dog said with a warm smile and a big heart.

"Please, Einy!" Rita laughed, then turned to Dodger, "They're related to _you_, Dodge, how could they possibly be well-behaved?'

"Why, I'm crushed! Ya' would imply that _I _am a bad influence on these innocent youths? I _never_!" the red-scarfed mutt said indignantly, then immediately gave the pups a devious smirk, "Ooh, by tha' way, innocent youths, I stole you all a nice, juicy steak to eat! Lemme' get it for ya'!"

"Dodger!" Rita chastised him, but the mutt was already walking out the doggy door and reentering with a giant steak.

"Yay! A treat!" the puppies cheered as the three of them bolted for the steak and began devouring it.

"Thanks, bro! You're the best!" Honey smiled through chunks of meat.

"You're so cool, Dodger! I wanna' grow up to be a thief just like you!" Stud woofed in admiration.

"Dodger… _very _bad influence…" Rita said through gritted teeth while Dodger took several bows before the pups.

"Rita, Rita, Rita… are ya' so bossy as ta' decide for tha' kids who they are and aren't allowed to take after? I am _so _disappointed in you."

"Same to you."

"I'm hurt. If I were part of tha' Company, I think I might ditch ya' again," Dodger smirked, but Rita looked like she was a little hurt by his casual remark.

Dodger didn't notice her and laughed at the puppies, "Hey, kids, don't eat all tha' steak! Leave some for ya' younger brother! Where is Billy, anyways?"

"I believe the little fellow is napping in Fagin's bedroom, is he not?" Francis asked Einstein.

"Um… yeah. Yeah, I think so. Best not to wake him up."

"…It's okay. I'm already up," a small voice came from Fagin's room. Billy, the puppy who looked nearly identical to his older brother, gave a yawn and joined his four siblings, "Hiya, Dodger."

"Billy, my man! Or dog, rather," Dodger gave his little half-brother a big smile, "You're not tha' little runt ya' used ta' be, are ya'?"

"Nah, he's _still _a little runt!" Stud laughed, causing Honey and Kitty to join in laughing at their younger brother's small stature.

"Oh, stop it, guys," Billy mumbled, looking crestfallen as his siblings laughed.

"Ah, c'mon, Billy, they're just messin' with ya'. No harm in that," Dodger told the tiny puppy. The red-scarfed mutt ushered his little brothers and sisters into the living room with the rest of the Company. Dodger's stomach then gave a loud rumble and he sheepishly asked, "Uh, guys… mind if I have a little ta' eat? Just a little bit."

"Sure you can," Rita assured him, nodding to the several bowls of dog food in the apartment's kitchen. Her eyes widened as she noticed she could faintly see Dodger's ribs through his fur, "Have all you want, Dodge! Geez, you look half-starved!"

"Aww, ya' _do _care," the mutt teased as he wolfed down the food, but quickly dismissed her concern over him, "I'm fine, Rita. Just had less luck than usual snaggin' food ta' eat."

"Our food is your food, old chap. Think nothing else," Francis told him, ever the gentleman.

"Thanks, but _my _food come from tha' streets. That's tha' way I like it," Dodger insisted, "But thanks for ya' generosity."

"Dodger… if you're not getting enough to eat out on the streets… you're always welcome to rejoin the Company."

"No thanks, Rita. I don't belong with you guys," he refuted her with a shrug of his shoulders, "My life is out an' about on tha' streets a' New York. Besides, I gotta' spend time with Oliver too."

"It's not about your freedom and carefree lifestyle, Dodger," Rita persisted, "It's about your health and well-being."

"I'm truly touched by your concern, but I've been able ta' take care a' myself since I was a puppy," Dodger stated with a note of closure in his voice, "It was really nice seeing ya' all again, but I'm outta' here now. Check ya' later!"

The mutt hurried out Fagin's apartment through the doggy door; after he'd gone, the Company exchanged looks of uncertainty and concern.

"Yeah… check ya' later," Rita sighed.


	2. Adena

Chapter Two

Georgette awoke that morning and told herself that it was going to be a perfect day.

But then again, how could it not be? She was a beautiful- no, an _exquisite _poodle who had won the National Dog Show Championship not once, but seven times. _And soon to be eight times_, Georgette thought with a smirk. On top of that, she owned one of the richest families in New York. While the Foxworths might have owned the mansion on Fifth Avenue, _she _owned everything inside it… with one exception.

That one, teeny-tiny little thing in their mansion that she did not, in fact, own was a young, loveable orange cat named Oliver. It was a pity that her girl, Jenny, liked the little guy so much, but regardless, Georgette wanted nothing to do with him. Today would be truly perfect if the troublemaking cat would just stay out of her fabulously-groomed fur.

And so, she began her perfect summer day by doing her make-up. She first poofed her fluffy ears in powder, then touched up her already-beautiful complexion, and finally removed the curlers from her perfect hair. Georgette gave her gorgeous self a thorough look-over in her heart-shaped mirror - she looked stunning as usual - and proceeded to sing her favorite song, "Perfect Isn't Easy," and how true it was! It _really _wasn't easy to be so perfect.

Georgette swayed out of her decorative bedroom and graced the hallway, waltzing down the grand staircase. Unfortunately, she immediately caught sight of that cat, Oliver, and her day was already a little less perfect.

_Well, whatever. You can't have everything, you know_, Georgette wisely reasoned. But then she noticed that Oliver was approaching the Foxworth family all gathered together in the mansion's entrance hall. It looked like Mr. Foxworth was showing them something, but what? Honestly, what could possibly be more important than _her_?

A little put-off and a little curious at the same time, the prize-winning poodle slowly approached the huddled Foxworths to see exactly what it was all the fuss was over.

Something Mr. Foxworth had in his arms? But she need not go any closer, for Winston moved a little to the right and Georgette could see just what all this was about.

At least, she could see it, but she couldn't believe it.

_It _can't _be! _Georgette panicked, gasping at the sight of it. _Oh no, this simply can't be happening to me! This is MY family, and I _won't _allow this! Oh, this is NOT a perfect day! Not at all!_

The horrid thing Mr. Foxworth held in his arms was… it was…

* * *

"A cat!" Oliver cheered in delight.

He could hardly believe it. In walked Mr. Foxworth, home from his business as usual, saying he had a great surprise for everyone… and it was another cat!

"Oh, David, she's _precious_!" he wife fawned over the cat Mr. Foxworth had brought into the mansion. She was a calico cat with a beautiful mix of white, orange, and black fur and emerald green eyes. Her fur was messy and matted, dusty and dirty - this was clearly a stray cat from off the streets.

"Where did you find her, Daddy?" Jenny asked her father, gazing at the calico lovingly.

"I was walking down the street, almost at the house, when I saw her lying helplessly on the sidewalk in front of me," he explained to his family, "She just looked so desperate and pitiful and… well, I couldn't just leave her outside, now could I?"

"Of course not," Mrs. Foxworth beamed, taking the cat into her arms, "Why, she's not bigger that our Oliver! And look at how happy she is - not frightened in the least!"

"Well, I daresay no one has ever paid her any attention before, madam," Winston smiled at the brave little calico, "She is likely too happy to be the least bit scared."

"Can we keep her, Daddy?" Jenny was practically jumping up and down, "Can we? Can we?"

"_Well_… I don't know, sweetheart... I just don't think we can unless…"

"Unless what, Daddy? Unless what?"

"Why, unless she had a name," he grinned at his daughter.

Jenny gave her father a delighted hug, while her mother stroked their new cat and mused, "Oh, she's just so pretty, I think she needs a pretty name to match! How about… Adena?"

"Adena is a beautiful name!" Mr. Foxworth applauded, scratching the newest member of the family behind the ears.

Jenny bent down and scooped up Oliver in her arms, then held him up close to the new cat, "I bet Oliver will want to say hello! Say hello to Adena!"

"H- Hello," Oliver meowed, rather embarrassed at being put on the spot. Adena gave him a small smile but mewed nothing in return, instead closing her eyes sleepily.

"Oh, David, the poor thing looks so tired," he wife cooed, "Why don't we let her get some rest? I'm sure this must all be very new and startling to her."

"Yes, of course," David agreed, then took Adena back into his arms and took her up the grand staircase to find a bed for her. Jenny set Oliver back down on the floor and quickly followed her father.

"Winston, could you please make Adena dear some nice warm milk?" Mary asked the kind old butler. Winston gave her a nod and went off to the kitchen to prepare the milk for the mansion's newest resident.

"Our house is becoming a zoo, isn't it, Oliver?" Mrs. Foxworth bent down to scratch Oliver's back, "We have you, and now Adena dear, and your friend Dodger whenever he comes to visit. Oh, of course, I almost forgot you, Georgette!"

She beckoned their prize-winning poodle over to join them at the foot of the stairs. Georgette had been keeping a good distance between herself and the little "family gathering" over the new cat, but she reluctantly marched over to Mrs. Foxworth and Oliver.

"Aren't you happy we have a new friend, Georgette?" Oliver asked.

"Delighted."

"Oh, come on! I think she's pretty. And I'm sure she's really nice, too!" Oliver mewed to the big fluffy poodle.

Mrs. Foxworth left the cat and poodle to accompany Winston in bringing Adena her warm milk. When they had both gone upstairs, Georgette gave a very dramatic sigh, "This was going to be a perfect day! And now it's _ruined_! Ruined, I say!"

"I think this _is _a perfect day," Oliver grinned, "I've never, ever had another cat as a friend before! I only remember my mom and my brothers and sisters a little bit… and after that, all my friends have been dogs!"

"You certainly are a strange little cat. It's a wonder you don't bark instead of meow," Georgette mused, almost slipping into a smile but catching herself in the nick of time.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Foxworth had given Adena one of the soft guest beds to sleep on, and like expected, she had gone straight to sleep.

But that had been a whole two hours ago, and Oliver really, really wanted to meet her and give a proper greeting.

_Oh, I hope she's awake by now_, Oliver thought as he tiptoed up to the guest bedroom Adena was in. He slipped through the ajar door and quietly walked up to the edge of the bed.

"H- Hello?" Oliver whispered, "Um… are you still asleep?"

He waited for a moment in silence, then stretched his paws up on the bed, readying himself to jump up there. But before he jumped, a calico cat suddenly appeared over the edge of the bed to look down at him, and their noses touched.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… I was just… um… a- are you still sleep?"

"Do I _look _still asleep?" she asked dryly. Oliver was worried he had upset her, but she then gave him a warm, albeit rather amused, smile.

"H- Hi, Adena," Oliver meowed sheepishly.

She gave a little laugh at that, "Is that what they decided to name me?"

"I think Adena is a pretty name!" Oliver smiled up at her, "It suites you very well."

"Are you calling _me _pretty, then?"

"Um… well, you are… I- I mean, you're…" Oliver was at a loss for words. He could feel his cheeks getting hot.

"Oh, don't kill yourself. I'm only teasing," Adena giggled, meeting his light hazel brown eyes with her bright green ones, "I'm very glad to meet you, Oliver."

This puzzled him a little, "Um… how did you know that my name's Oliver?"

"Oh! I… I just heard your owners call you that," Adena hastily explained, "Sorry, didn't mean to be weird or anything."

"No, no, not at all," Oliver smiled.

"Alright then," she grinned, then gave a small yawn, "Well, Ollie, I'm still kind of tired. Would you mind if I went back to sleep?"

"Oh, no, of course you can sleep! I'll just… I'll, um, I'll go now," he stumbled over his words, "Well… bye! It was nice meeting you too, Adena!"

He quickly left the room, embarrassed that he had looked so foolish in front of her. She must think he was so dumb… Still, she had called him "Ollie." He had been called "kid" and "little bro" by Dodger and even "that cat" by Georgette, but no one had ever called him "Ollie" before. He liked the sound of the nickname… it made him smile just thinking about it.


	3. Club and Razor

Chapter Three

He had run out on the Company pretty quickly, and though he did feel kind of bad about it, Dodger was really not in the mood to trudge back to their Chelsea apartment and give the gang a false apology. No way, the Dodge did _not _go whimpering back to his enemies with his tail between his legs.

_Not that tha' guys are my enemies! No, no, we've all settled our differences and that's that. We're friends again_, Dodger firmly told himself. He still felt uneasy about having that hateful thought towards the gang, but he just shrugged and wrote it off as force of habit.

Of course, Dodger then felt bad for having admitted that thinking of the Company as enemies was a force of habit.

"Man, I need ta' chill out…" he shook his head back and forth, trying in vain to clear any lingering ill-will towards the Company out of his mind, "I need ta' blow off some steam… I need ta' hit on some girls… I need ta'- " his stomach then rumbled very loudly, " -I need ta' _eat_!"

Dodger had barely eaten any chow at Fagin's apartment before he'd run out on the guys - yet again, he chided himself - and he was still very, very hungry. Heck, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd eaten properly.

"Okay… food, food, food… I need me some food!" the mutt walked down the city sidewalk, trying to sniff out something to eat. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly in an area of Lower Manhattan where there were any street vendors out selling scrumptious, sizzling snacks just waiting to be stolen.

_Alright, no vendor food for me… _Dodger huffed irritably, picking up his pace down the sidewalk as his stomach picked up the rumbling. He then sniffed the smell of some trash bins up ahead - not exactly what he considered appetizing, but trash bins mean food scraps. His stomach gave another starved growl, and Dodger thought food scraps sounded as good as a five-star restaurant.

The red-scarfed mutt turned into the alley and rammed over the trash bins, but just as he had begun nosing around in the garbage for something edible-

"Hey! Take your nose outta' _our _food, ya' lousy mutt!"

The demand came from two rather large, growling dogs - a snarling German Shepherd and a seething Pit Bull. They emerged from the shadows of the alley, looking ready to attack Dodger then and there over the food.

Dodger, on the other hand, regarded the two furious dogs with a cocky smile and a slight tilt of the head that gave him the appearance of being not-all-that-interested, "_Your _food? Sorry, didn't see tha' nametags on tha' trash bins."

"Oh, a wise guy, eh?" the Pit Bull narrowed his eyes menacingly, "An' who exactly do ya' think you are?"

"Ask your mom, I'm sure she remembers me."

"Why, you mangy- "

"_Wait_. Wait, I know who this is," the German Shepherd stepped in front of the Pit Bull to stop him from attacking, "He said ya' wore a red bandana 'round ya' neck. You're _tha' Dodger_, ain't ya'?"

"What? _THE _Dodger? Where, where?" Dodger squealed in a high-pitched voice, turning his head as if he were looking all over the alley.

"He also said ya' were full of it. Guess he was right on both accounts," the German Shepherd sneered, still holding back his irate companion, "Tha' name's Razor, an' this guy is Club. We- "

" -Represent the Lollipop Guild?"

"We gotta' teach ya' that you don't own these streets anymore," Razor ignored Dodger's sarcasm, "I know ya' think all tha' food in tha' city is yours for tha' taking, but you're wrong. Tha' alley you're standin' in belongs to tha' Kings. These scraps ya' stuck ya' nose in belong to tha' Kings. Lower Manhattan belongs to tha' Kings."

Dodger dropped his smirk and narrowed his eyes, regarding Club and Razor very seriously for a moment, but then went back to his arrogant sneer, "Ooh, wow! _Tha' Kings_! They sure sound tough! So, uh… you two come up with tha' name all by yourselves, or what?"

"Ya' really think you're something, don't ya? Just wait till _I'm _through with ya'!" Club roared, but again Razor stepped in front of him.

"Go ahead, _Dodge_. Laugh it up. You'll deal with tha' Kings soon enough," Razor barked, towering over Dodger like one of the city's enormous skyscrapers, "But for now, get your muzzle outta' our food an' clear outta' this part of tha' city. This is tha' Kings' territory now, an' if ya' don't scamper off like a good boy, I'll let Club here personally escort you out."

"Oh, man, I'm shakin'!" Dodger barked, but backed off from the clumps of garbage and food scraps they had claimed, "Well, I really hate ta' make little pups cry, so ya' can keep your morsel of a meal. An' since I'm feelin' _generous_, I'll even leave ya' so-called territory, just as long as ya' don't throw a temper tantrum on me, okay?'

"Get. Out. _Now_," Razor snarled.

Refusing to drop his cocky grin, Dodger casually strutted out of the alleyway. He could still hear Razor holding back the growling Club, and Dodger decided he'd better hurry up out of the alley while he still could. The hungry mutt ran down the sidewalk and headed out of Lower Manhattan, the area that supposedly belonged to this gang, the Kings.

"Geez, how could I lose my food ta' two big, ugly dogs hammerin' on about their wannabe gang? All-time low, Dodger. All-time low," the mutt scowled to himself as bounded up on top of a car that quickly took off up the street.

_An' that's all these "Kings" are. Just some lame, wannabe gang who think they're tough cookies_, Dodger assured himself, the wind whipping his face as he car surfed out of Lower Manhattan - he wasn't afraid of staying in their so-called territory, it was just a… safety precaution. His stomach then gave yet another loud rumble.

"Ah, man! I'm still hungry!"

* * *

It was very late in the evening by the time Dodger had arrived in Harlem, and later still when he finally found a certain familiar, abandoned subway station.

"Charley! Hey, Charl, are you an' tha' _Scoundrels _here?" Dodger called out as he slowly descended the stairs into the old underground station. It was the home of some of Dodger's street dog friends, the gang of dogs who called themselves the Scoundrels, and none was more scoundrel than Dodger's puppyhood friend, Charley.

"Hey, hey, hey! Whaddya' know? It's Jack!" the black-and-white coated, shaggy-furred collie loudly greeted his old buddy, "No, sorry! You're _Dodger _now, not Jack."

"Charl, I have not gone by Jack for a very, very long time now," Dodger grinned, shaking his head in dismay at his friend.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you're called. You're my oldest friend," Charley told the mutt warmly.

"Same ta' you, man," Dodger smiled, then walked further into the Scoundrels' subway station. There were soiled blankets, torn pillows, and ripped cardboard boxes on the floor that made up several cozy, makeshift beds far away from the edge that overlooked the train tracks. Most of the lights had flickered out, but two or three of the ceiling lights were actually still lit up, giving the subway station these dogs called home a dim, relaxed lighting.

"Nice place you guys got here," Dodger grinned, impressed by the cozy crib his friends had put together.

"Yeah, we like it here too," Bud the Rottweiler agreed as he and Maddie the Greyhound came up to greet Dodger.

"Hiya, Bud. Hello, Maddie, ya' as beautiful as I last remember ya'," Dodger greeted the couple.

"Careful, Dodger. Beautiful Maddie's got eyes for one guy and one guy alone: _me_," Charley threw the Greyhound girl a flirty grin and a wink.

"Oh, please, Charl. I'm Bud's girl," Maddie rolled her eyes at the collie as if she'd heard his flirtations a thousand times before.

"Whatever ya' say," Charley smirked, but Bud was far too good-natured to be bothered by his leader's jokes.

"Dodger! Hi!"

The greeting came from a scruffy-furred, gold-coated mutt, a mix of Pomeranian and Cocker Spaniel. She hurried down the stairs and sprinted over to Dodger's side, her heart beating faster not because of her little run.

"Nancy babe! I'd forgotten you were here too!" Dodger laughed a greeting.

"Oh. Well… here I am," Nancy smiled a little dejectedly, but Dodger failed to notice her change in tone.

"I was wonderin' where ya'd gotten off to, Nancy! I was so _lonely _without my favorite girl beside me," Charley laughed, rubbing up against her in a joking display of affection.

"Down, boy," Nancy laughed it off, but Dodger thought she sounded a tad uncomfortable as she moved away from Charley and closer to him.

"Alright, alright. I'm telling ya', man, these two ladies give me so much trouble," Charley grinned at Nancy and Maddie, then grinned back at Dodger, "But I know they're just playing hard ta' get."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," the red-scarfed mutt rolled his eyes. Dodger's stomach then rumbled loudly for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

"Ya' hungry, Dodger?" Maddie asked with concern in her eyes.

"Oh, no, I just- "

"It's okay, we have some food over there," Nancy nodded towards a very tiny pile of meat scraps and half-eaten bones, "Help yourself, babe."

"C'mon, you guys don't have much. I don't wanna'- "

"Are you kiddin' me? The Artful Dodger, the Prince of Thieves, can't steal food for himself?" came the loud, boastful laugh of his good friend Charley, "Really now, Dodger, I thought better of you!"

Nancy threw the laughing collie a look of pure venom, but Charley either ignored it or simply didn't notice because he continued on, "Oh, man, don't tell me ya' been a pampered house pet for so long that ya' forgotten how ta' be a street dog!"

"There's nothing wrong with being a house pet, Charl. I've told ya' a million times, my family loves me," Dodger insisted.

"Yeah? Then why'd ya' leave them?'

"Well… I… I felt like- "

"Ah, it's okay. I know why ya' left them," Charley paused for dramatic effect, "It's 'cause my old buddy is a street dog at heart!"

"Yeah… I suppose," Dodger sighed, conceding their little dispute, "But seriously now, Charl. I _was _gonna' have myself some food, but these two big dogs stopped me: Razor, a huge German Shepherd, an' Club, a Pit Bull with a bad temper. Club an' Razor said all of Lower Manhattan was tha' territory of some gang of dogs called tha' Kings."

"The Kings? I've never heard of that gang before," Nancy spoke up, her brow narrowed in thought, "But there are quite a few gangs in the city. There's us, the Scoundrels, and your friends, the Company, and both of us are nonviolent. You guys know any others?"

"Hmm… The Steampunks live in some old factory, and they can be kinda' mean. The Park Pack live somewhere in Central Park, but they're usually pretty mellow. Then there's the Bone-Crushers…" Bud gave a shudder, "…and they're a bunch of sissies."

"Never heard of these _Kings _before," Maddie shrugged.

"They're probably just some lame group of Chihuahuas who want ta' make a name for themselves," Charley laughed off the idea of a threatening gang, "I doubt tha' Kings are anything ta' worry about."

Dodger's stomach chose that moment to rumble yet again, and Nancy quickly noticed, "Dodger, if you're hungry, you should have some of our food. We've got enough."

"Nah, Charl's right. I outta' be able ta' steal dinner for myself."

"Well then, if you're gonna be stubborn about it, let's you and me go out and steal some dinner. What do you say?" she offered with a grin.

"I say let's go, Nancy babe."


	4. Out With A Friend

Chapter Four

As Dodger and Nancy walked up the stairs that led out of the unused subway station and onto the streets of Harlem, the sun had just begun to set over the city skyline, a glowing orange globe disappearing behind an army of shining skyscrapers. Down on the streets, the city's nightlife was already beginning to take over - the hustle-and-bustle of daytime did not slow down in the slightest, and if anything, only sped up.

"Isn't this city just beautiful, babe?" Dodger asked his friend with an excited, fascinated grin on his face.

Nancy giggled at his goofy expression, "Yeah, it is. You really love it here, don't you?"

"Of course I do! …Why? Don't you?"

"Oh, I do. I love New York," Nancy assured him, "But the city can be… I dunno', kinda' scary sometimes."

"It _is _scary. New York is big and loud and dangerous, and yeah, pretty scary," he had a bright gleam in his eyes as he added on, "An' I wouldn't have it any other way. Tha' city's full of adventure and surprises, an' lots of excitement!"

"You sound so passionate about it," Nancy laughed again.

"I guess I am. What can I say? I've got New York City Heart."

Nancy laughed again, but when she stopped, Dodger thought she looked almost troubled, as though something were bothering her.

"Nancy babe? Ya' alright? Is it something I said?"

"Oh no, Dodger, it's not you. I'm just… I guess I'm just still pretty angry," she sighed, a glare coming over her eyes that worried Dodger.

"Angry? Who are ya' angry with?"

"Who do you think?" she fumed, "Charley."

"_Charley_?" Dodger gasped, stunned by the way she had spat out the name of his oldest friend like it was a rotten piece of meat, "What about Charl? What's he done?"

"He… He hasn't done anything, it's… the way he acts. He's so condescending, and he constantly flirts with Maddie and me to the point where it's demeaning, and- and he's a jerk. That's why I wanted us to leave like we did."

"Nancy, Charl is my oldest friend," Dodger said in a very low growl, "An' whaddya' mean he's cocky an' flirty an' rude? Ain't _I _all those things too? Are ya' angry with _me_?"

"No, of course not! But Dodge, you don't realize that… well, with you it all comes off as funny. Y'know, playful. I know you're just joking around," she tried to explain without making him angry at her, "But with Charley, he's… more insulting. He makes me feel like I'm _lesser _than him. Dodger, I know he's been your friend since puppyhood, but- "

" -That's all there is to it," he cut her off, his voice firm, "Charl's been my friend since puppyhood. I know we can both be jerks at times, but babe, it's all in good fun. Trust me, Charley's a good dog."

"I… yeah. You're right, Dodge. I do believe he's a good dog. I really do."

"Then there's no more ta' be said," Dodger grinned, but fortunately it was a warm a kind grin, and Nancy decided to let the argument drop for now, "Alright, babe, let's go steal some dinner! I am _starving_!"

"Can't have that, now can we?" Nancy beamed as the two mutts took off down the sidewalk in search of a good meal.

They came into a busier part of the city and soon could sniff the smell of roasting, sizzling hotdogs just up ahead. Dodger and Nancy spotted the street vendor up ahead - a street vendor that Dodger knew all too well.

Old Louie was a ridiculously fat, disgusting man who sold hotdogs all over New York and was notoriously known by the stray cats and dogs of the city to hate them all with a passion. You see, they were always stealing his hotdogs.

"Aah! Get away! Get outta' here!" Old Louie spluttered as Nancy approached him, eyeing his cooking hotdogs hungrily. While the fat man was busy chasing her off, he didn't notice Dodger making off with several of his Frankfurters.

"Lousy little mutt… Huh? Wasn't there more than…" Old Louie wondered as he looked at the number of hotdogs he now had, but then Dodger came up just like Nancy had and began begging for food, "No! Get away, you mutt! Get aw- Hey… don't I know you?"

Before Louie could remember having encountered Dodger before, and indeed he had on several occasions, Nancy had snuck up and also stolen a rack of hotdogs while Louie's eyes were on Dodger.

Dodger jumped past Old Louie, picked up the hotdogs he's already stolen, darted off after Nancy, and _viola_: yet another stunning success pulled off by the Dodger. And Nancy too.

"Hey, you mutts! Come back with my hotdogs! _Aggh_! Dumb dogs!"

Dodger and Nancy had easily outrun the fat vendor, and they laughed as they turned into an alley to rest and chow down on their stolen goods.

"Ha ha ha! Oh, that was great! You are a _fine _thief, Nancy babe!" Dodger complimented her before wolfing down his half of the stolen hot dogs.

"Hey, a girl's gotta' do what a girl's gotta' do."

"Darn straight," he grinned mischievously as she ate all her hot dogs just as fast as he'd eaten his, "Ah man, babe. This reminds me of tha' time I first met Oliver. Ya' know Oliver, right?"

"The little orange cat?"

"Yep. My kid brother," Dodger nodded, then begun his story on an embarrassing note, "Ya' see, I had… well… I had _tricked _tha' kid inta' helping me steal some of Louie's Frankfurters. Then I… I tried ta' ditch him without sharing any of tha' hot dogs we'd stolen."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Nancy rolled her eyes but gave an amused smile.

"So then tha' kid followed me back to tha' Company's boat - old man Fagin lived in an abandoned boat at tha' time, you see - an' he joined tha' gang. We became close, Oliver an' I. I guess… I guess I'd never been tha' attached to anyone ever before. Well, long story short, tha' kid helped us save Fagin from this terrible man named Sykes, who Fagin owed a lotta' dough. Sykes an' his two Dobermans, Roscoe an' Desoto, were all killed. An believe me, babe," he added when he saw the startled look in her eyes, "I'm _very _glad they're dead."

"I believe you, Dodge, it's just… wow. That's a lot to take in," Nancy sighed, but then urged him to continue the story. She knew there had to be more to it than that.

"Well, Oliver was adopted by this rich girl, Jenny, an' her family. He lives with tha' Foxworths now."

"That upsets you, doesn't it?" Nancy asked gently. She could tell by the momentary look of anguish in his eyes that this bothered him a very great deal.

"Yeah… I'd be lying if I said it didn't. But tha' kid loves that family an'… I love them too."

"Didn't they take you in for a few months? You were their house dog, right?"

"Yep. Tha' Company an' I had a… falling-out, an' then I got hit by a car," he said casually. She gasped, so he quickly added, "But I got better! Anyways, another long story short, tha' Company an' I were angry at each other for months an' months, but we all settled our differences when we took care of Stone an' his henchmen. They were guys in tha' Mafia or something who Sykes had connections with, an' now they're locked up in jail."

Nancy nodded, remembering being there with Dodger, Charley, Oliver, and the Company the night those three Mafia men were arrested, "…That was the night you're mother died, wasn't it?"

Dodger found himself comforted by the gentle compassion in her voice, "Yeah… Yeah, it was."

"Do you wanna' talk about her?'

He smiled at Nancy, "Not tonight."

The two dogs, having finished eating their stolen dinner, left the alleyway and took off down the city streets. They passed many rude people and sky-high buildings, and Dodger made Nancy laugh by effortlessly stealing a wallet from a man's back pocket. After some coercion on Dodger's part, Nancy even car surfed for the first time, and though she was pretty frightened, Nancy had to admit that she loved the thrill of riding on top of a speeding car. It was incredibly dangerous, sure, but it was a lot of fun.

When the glimmering orange sun had finally disappeared behind the skyline of their beloved city, Dodger and Nancy were by the railings overlooking New York Harbor, the entrance to the Hudson River.

"Haven't been to tha' waterfront in ages… Not since I was with tha' Company an' we lived on that old boat," Dodger reflected on the days past.

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"The way everything used to be. Y'know, before you ever left the Company. Even before you met Oliver, I guess. Do you miss those days?'

"Well… I once thought I did. But now… I guess now I realize that _everything _has changed. Some of it for the better, some of it for the worse, but either way, there's no going back. An' really… I like tha' way things have turned out. I know it's been rough, but now I have… now I can be with…"

As he paused, Nancy couldn't help but feel light-headed, her heart hopeful, as she asked him, "…Who? Who can you be with now?"

"Oliver. I can be with my little bro," Dodger smiled.

Nancy's face fell for a moment, but she soon brightened back up, "Oliver is very special to you. I know he is."

"Of course he is. Tha' kid is tha' most important person in my life, Nancy babe."

She nodded in agreement, "It's important to have someone you love."


	5. Salutations

Chapter Five

Nancy yawned as she awoke on the soft, grassy ground of one of the city's parks. _Riverside Park_, she remembered. _That's right. Dodger and I were at the waterfront last night, and we went to this nearby park to sleep._

Her cheeks burned when she realized that she'd never spent so much time with Dodger before, but she quickly cleared those thoughts away with a shake of her head. Nancy stretched, then looked around for her friend.

"Dodger? You here?" she asked, but didn't see him. Before too long though, he came strutting up the park path to her with a chicken sandwich in his mouth.

"Wow, I didn't know you could make sandwiches!" she laughed.

"Oh, yeah. One of my many talents, Nancy babe," the mutt smirked, "Y'know, along with stealin' from family picnics."

"You're such a kind soul."

"Ain't I?" Dodger grinned, then dropped the chicken sandwich at her paws, "Here, eat up. Ya' look like ya' could use some breakfast."

"Are you kidding me? _You _look like you could use some breakfast, and some lunch, and a big dinner!" Nancy stared aghast at his ribs, visible under his scruffy white-and-brown fur.

"Nah, I'm fine. Ya' know I can steal food for myself whenever I want," he shrugged off her concerns, "Besides, I stole this for _you_."

"How sweet."

"Why, thank you. Now you eat, then we'll get ya' back ta' tha' Scoundrels," Dodger began to walk a little ways away, but he looked over his shoulder and threw her his cocky grin, "If you an' I stay out any longer, there'll be talk!"

"…And that would be bad?" she whispered when he was out of hearing. Nancy sighed, then quickly wolfed down the sandwich. She had really wanted him to eat it, but she knew there was no arguing with Dodger when his stubborn side came out.

Nancy sped up to join him, and the two mutts made their way out of Riverside Park and into the Upper West Side of the city. She knew she was way too eager to car surf again for her own good, but it was just too much fun; Nancy and Dodger hopped up and rode on car tops out of West Side and into Harlem once again. It wasn't long before they'd found their way back to the Scoundrels' abandoned old subway station.

"Glad ta' have seen ya' home safe an' sound. City can be dangerous for pretty girls like you."

"Oh, but I'm a girl who looks for a bit of danger," Nancy laughed.

"Haven't we had this little exchange before, babe?"

"We have," she grinned, "Maybe we can have it again… the next time we go out?"

She almost seemed nervous, anxious for his reply, but Dodger didn't notice and just smirked as always, "I'll hold ya' ta' that. Later, Nancy babe."

"You not coming in?"

"Nah, I'm off ta' go visit Oliver at his fancy-pants mansion. It's been a few days since I've since tha' kid," Dodger explained, then took off down the street at his usual leisurely strut.

"Till next time," Nancy whispered as he left, then turned and walked down the stairs to her gang's home.

* * *

Dodger sauntered down the sidewalk, having made his way from Harlem to Upper Manhattan - more specifically, to Fifth Avenue. The mutt was heading down the famously opulent avenue that ran along the east side of Central Park; Dodger was on his way to the Foxworths' beautiful mansion home, which Dodger knew was just a little further on down, but not past the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the right.

When he got to the mansion, Dodger remembered not to go to the front door or even the fire escape that went up to Jenny's room - a few months ago Mr. Foxworth had placed a doggy door on the back entrance, and that was what Dodger had been entering ever since. He went through the doggy door and into the back hall of the mansion, then made his way to the main living room.

Dodger figured his unkempt, messy fur and dirty paws looked pretty out of place when surrounded by the mansion's luxurious furniture, decorative paintings, and ornate possessions, but it didn't matter. This mansion was like a second home to him, a place of rest and refuge where he was always welcome.

"Greetings, Dodger! Why, I haven't seen you for days," Winston the butler smiled at the dog. Dodger barked his own greeting.

"Master Foxworth is at his business, and the Madam is attending some manner of social party," Winston explained to the mutt, "But you'll find Miss Jennifer up in the library with Master Oliver!"

Dodger woofed and bounded up the grand staircase in the adjacent entrance hall. Winston called out after him, "Oh, yes, and Jenny is also with Miss Ad- well… he'll meet her soon enough, I suppose."

The mutt knew his way all around the Foxworth mansion, having been their pet for several months, and was thus at the library in a matter of seconds. _It's been too long since I've seen tha' kid_, Dodger grinned. He pushed the slightly-ajar door open with his muzzle and walked in.

"Hiya, kid!"

"Dodger!" Oliver mewed happily. The orange cat was lying on a couch beside the nine-year-old redhead girl, but Oliver jumped down and darted over to his best friend, "It's been too long!"

"Exactly what I was just thinkin', little bro!" Dodger laughed.

Jenny set down the book she was reading, _Oliver Twist_, and excitedly ran over to their canine visitor, "It's great to see you again, Dodger!"

The girl paused when she saw how thin he'd become, worry taking over, "Oh, you look so hungry! You must be awfully underfed out by yourself on the streets. I'll tell Winston to bring you up some food!"

Jenny scratched Dodger's head and left the library to find their chubby butler. Now that she'd pointed out Dodger's thinness, Oliver immediately examined the dog himself, his eyes widening, "Big bro, you really do look half-starved! Haven't you eaten lately?"

"Oh… y'know. I eat every now an' then. Nothin' ta' worry about," Dodger shrugged as if it were the most trivial thing in the world, "C'mon, kid, ya' know I can steal whatever I want ta' eat."

"Yes, I know that. That's why I can't believe you look so thin and starved," Oliver worried, "You know you can always get food here or from the Company."

"I _was _at tha' gang's apartment yesterday an' ate a little bit, but I left pretty quickly," he rolled his eyes as he recalled his short visit to the Company, "They were bein' nosy, too concerned with _my _business."

"Come on, Dodger, they're your friends. I hope you know that by now."

"I know, I know. It's just…" the dog sighed, ready to admit something that had been at the back of his mind for a while, "…apologies are great an' all, but what was said an' done… that can't be taken back."

"But you've forgiven each other. What's happened has happened, and now you can all move on," Oliver meowed kindly, rubbing against Dodger's fur to give his support.

"Heh. I missed ya' and your optimism," Dodger grinned at the young cat, but then sniffed Oliver with a confused look on his face, "Uh… kid? Ya' smell awfully _girly _today."

It was Oliver's turn to roll his eyes, "Oh, _thanks_, bro."

"I think that's my fault," an unfamiliar female voice called down.

Dodger looked up and was quite startled to see a calico cat perched atop a bookshelf above them. She gracefully leapt down and joined the cat and dog.

"Um… hi. Never seen _you_ here before," Dodger huffed, surprised by this strange girl cat.

"That's cause I've never been here before," she said dryly.

"Oh, Dodger, this is Adena! The Foxworths took her in off the streets yesterday," Oliver explained to the confused mutt.

"Tha' pleasure's all mine, Adena. Well, _I_ happen ta' be- "

" -the Artful Dodger, the king of New York. Yeah, I know," Adena smirked, "Believe me, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone on the streets who doesn't know who the _Dodger_ is."

"I'm flattered. But then again…" he narrowed his eyes, "…maybe I don't want all tha' streets cats an' dogs knowin' who I am."

"Little late for that, tough guy. You've gone to great lengths to make sure everyone knows _your_ name," Adena said rather coolly.

"Is that so?"

"Dodger, Dodger!" Oliver laughed nervously, stepping between him and Adena, "You have to admit, she has a point. You do like to tell people who you are."

"C'mon, bro, don't take her side!"

"No, no… I'm sorry," Adena sighed an apology, "I didn't mean to upset you, Dodger. I was just trying to say how well-known you are."

"Well… thanks."

The two cats and one dog sat in the library in an awkward silence for a moment or two. Adena finally cleared her throat and gave Dodger an apologetic smile, "So… you know the Company. I've heard of that gang. Word is they're pretty nice."

"Yeah, tha' Company's cool. I used ta' be their leader, but tha' gang an' I had a… eh… partin' of ways," Dodger told her, still sounding tense.

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, you said the Company lives in an apartment, right? I've never heard of a gang doing that before. Where's their apartment at?"

"Oh, they're at a place over in- Hey, _wait_! Why do ya' wanna' know where tha' Company stays, huh?"

"Dodger!" Oliver yelled in shock.

"I- I didn't want to know! I was just trying to be friendly!" Adena looked very upset by his accusation, "I'm sorry, okay! Don't get so worked up."

"Really, Dodger! Adena was only being conversational," Oliver quickly jumped to defend his new friend, "I think you owe her an apology."

Dodger looked like he had a few more things to say to Adena, but he sighed and mumbled an brief apology.

Fortunately, the tension was once again broken up, this time by Winston bursting into the library with a large, silver bowl of leftover ham. The balding butler set it down before Dodger, and the dog gratefully began eating it.

Jenny came in after Winston, and Adena quickly went up and began snuggling her legs. The calico turned back to Dodger, "Look, I… I didn't mean for us to get off to a bad start, and I'm sorry to have offended you. It's just… this is all so new, living with these nice people. I guess I haven't quite settled in yet."

Before Dodger could say anything, Oliver piped up, "Oh, that's completely understandable! You can take all the time you need to adjust! Dodger here just gets carried away, that's all. Everyone's really glad you're here with us, Adena."

She couldn't resist smiling at that, "Thanks, Ollie. You're a good friend. And… Dodger? Are we cool?'

The mutt stubbornly finished up his meal and took a long time chewing and swallowing, but he answered, "Yeah. Fine."

She gave him a weak smile, but then quickly retreated out of the library. While Jenny went over to the couch to resume reading her book and Winston left to get back to his butler duties, Oliver turned to Dodger.

"I wish you hadn't been so rude to her, bro," Oliver sighed, "I know Adena is kind of… sarcastic, but she really is nice. And I'm glad to have another cat to hang out with."

"What, ya' sick of us dogs already?" Dodger laughed, but straightened up to apologize, "Look, kid… I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have been so snappy with her. I'm sure she's real nice."

"She is, and she's… well…" Oliver grinned sheepishly, motioning for Dodger to lean down so he could whisper in his ear, "…I think she's _really_ pretty."

"Ooh, Oliver! I _knew_ ya' were a dog deep down! You go, little bro!"

"Hey! Keep it down! I don't want her to- "

"What did she call you? _Ollie_? Ha ha, I thinks she likes you, Ollie!"

"_Dodger_!"


	6. Family Dynamics

Chapter Six

The evening sky gleamed above the dark skyscrapers of New York, thin wisps of clouds hung over the tall buildings, the sun shone fiercely. The Company knew that just a little later into the evening, Fagin would get off work and return home to his Chelsea apartment.

The once-homeless man's eight dogs always looked forward to the times when Fagin was home, seeing as they were so few and far between nowadays. He spent much time working his job as a janitor at Mr. Foxworth's business, whom he was good friends with.

Rita always wanted to make sure that all of Fagin's dogs were present and accounted for when he got home. The saluki paced alone in their living room, _Einstein took all the puppies out for a walk, and they'll be back soon… Now, where's Tito and Frankie?_

Suddenly, a loud munching came from the kitchen. Rita turned and saw Francis eating - yet again - from his bowl of dog food.

"Frank! Didn't you _just _eat? C'mon, you know we gotta' eat sparingly so Fagin doesn't constantly have to buy more," she chided the guilty-looking bulldog.

"Please forgive me, Rita dear. I was powerless against my tummy's pitiful craving for food."

"Yeah, yeah," Rita grinned, then went to find Tito - but she didn't have to look for long, because Spanish music began blaring from Fagin's bedroom.

"_Buscando guayaba ando yo! Que tenga sabor, que tenga mendo! Bururu, barara done va Miguel! Bururu, barara fue a buscar tambien guayaba!_" Tito could be heard yipping along to his song.

"Tito! _TITO_!" Rita barked, "Turn that music _off_!"

The old radio clicked off, the music stopped, and the angry little red-haired Chihuahua marched out of the bedroom, "Rita! That music is my _soul_! My _passion_! How could ya' make me silence it?"

"Can it, you little rat," Rita smirked, "No one here likes that song but you."

"Seconded," Francis huffed.

"_Frankie_!" the Chihuahua gasped, "Why did ya' never tell me ya' didn't like it?"

"I believe I have made my distaste for your so-called music very, _very _apparent. You have simply failed to listen," Francis barked indignantly, "And do _not_ call me Frankie!"

"What do I call ya' then, huh? Franny? Fatty? Fatso?"

"Why, you immature, egotistical, intolerable little twat!"

"Say that again, man! C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!"

"Boys! Hush up!" Rita commanded. Tito and Francis immediately settled down upon hearing the authority in her bark. Tito stuck his tongue out at Francis, but Rita gave him a sharp glare and he straightened up.

"It's, uh, awfully quiet in here," a slow but gentle voice was heard coming in through the doggy door.

"Einy! Hey, man!"

"Welcome back, old chap."

The old Great Dane entered the apartment and came over to join his friends, and three mutt puppies bounded through the doggy door after him.

"We had so much fun! We walked down the street and waited to safely cross the street even though I wanted to car surf and we all ran around the park and it was great!" Stud eagerly recounted their outing.

"Oh, is that all?" Rita laughed.

"Nuh-uh! We also got to walk over to the edge of the harbor and see the docks!" Honey quickly added on, "The river was so big and pretty and there was a boat on it!"

"Did we ever tell you that our little gang used to reside inside an old boat?" Francis asked the pups.

"Yeah! You said it was down below the docks! I bet it was fun taking your boat sailing on the river!" Kitty giggled in delight.

"No, the boat was tied up! They didn't take it sailing!" Honey smartly corrected her little sister.

"Well actually, the, uh, the boat _used _to work," Einstein smiled at his old memories, "Back when the Company was just, uh, Francis and me. Fagin used to take us two on boat rides down the, uh, the East River."

"Why, I remember that, old boy!" the English bulldog laughed merrily, "Dear Fagin had ever so much fun on those boat rides! A shame the thing broke down and had to be safely roped to the docks, but I suppose it _was _fairly old."

"Can we go down and see the boat? Can we? Can we?" Kitty squealed, bouncing up and down on the couch.

"No, sorry. Fagin sold the, uh, boat to help buy the, um, old apartment. The Bronx one," Einstein slowly explained to the disappointed puppy.

Content that they were all safely home, the dogs flopped down in the living room like usual. Tito and Francis continued to glare furiously at each other, but nevertheless seated themselves down together on the floor. Einstein was sprawled out on the couch, and Stud, Honey, and Kitty quickly hopped up on him. Rita was about to lie down herself, but then she noticed something was wrong.

"Wait, Einy. I thought you took _all _the kids out walking," Rita asked with a note of panic in her voice, "Where's Billy?"

"Oh, man! I didn't even notice tha' little guy wasn't here!" Tito yipped.

"Where on earth could the poor chap have gotten off to?"

"Einy! Was Billy with you out in the city? Did you lose sight of him?"

"I- I don't know, Rita. I… I thought he was," a teary-eyed Einstein admitted.

"He _was _with us… wasn't he?" Honey asked her brother and sister.

"I dunno'. Wasn't paying attention to him," Stud shrugged.

"Well, where is he?" Rita was really starting to panic now.

"You guys looking for me?"

"_Billy_!"

The little puppy had just now come into the apartment, the smallest of grins on his face. He came over and joined them in the living room, "Hey, guys! I was just out exploring- "

" -Why did you go off by yourself? Oh, Billy, you could have been hurt!" Rita was quick to scold him.

"Ya', man! Ya' can't scare us like that!"

"'Twas most irresponsible of you, little one!"

"But guys, I- I just wanted to explore the city on my own a little bit! I was fine!" Billy was uncomfortable being the center of everyone's attention, "I d- did go out with Einstein and my brother and sisters, but I fell back and walked around the streets some! No dogs bothered me, and I came back here before too long."

"That doesn't matter. The point is you _could _have been hurt!" Rita barked at him. Billy whimpered a little.

"Yeah! You're so tiny that any huge dog could've gobbled you up in one bite!" his brother Stud woofed excitedly.

"I'm not _that _tiny…" Billy mumbled, his head hung in shame.

"Yes you are! You're the runt of the litter!" Honey teased.

"Honey! Be nice to your brother!"

"Yes, Rita," Honey muttered, but then looked back at Billy and whispered, "Runt of the litter!"

"Am not," the little puppy whispered back miserably.

"Look, Billy. I'm telling you right now that you are absolutely not to go off anywhere by yourself. _Ever_!" Rita spoke loud and clearly to him, "I'm sorry to say it, but you're just too small to wander off alone. End of story, got it?"

"But Rita!"

"No buts. Go to Fagin's bedroom, get in your bed, and go to sleep. No supper for you," she punished him, "Go, Billy."

The small mutt puppy trembled as he walked into the bedroom, sniffling a little. When he was gone, Tito turned to Rita, "Ya' don't think ya' bein' too hard on tha' little man? He ain't ever been in trouble like this before."

"I know he hasn't, but that's exactly why he's got to learn. I know it's tough, but Billy was wrong to go off alone. He had to be punished for it."

Over on the couch, Einstein let out a very sad sigh, "…This is all my fault. I should've been watching him better."

"Yeah, but he shouldn't have left you at all, Einy," Rita reassured the Great Dane, but it did little to cheer him up.

"That goes for you three as well, you hear me?" Rita shot at Stud, Honey, and Kitty, "You're _not _allowed to got off by yourself."

"But we're all bigger and stronger than him!" Stud snickered.

"Doesn't matter. No going anywhere alone," Rita ordered them, then sighed and turned to the rest of her gang, "Well, guys, Fagin ought to be home from work any minute now. Let's all be nice and quiet when he arrives, alright?"

"Someone mention me, eh?"

Rita, Tito, Francis, Einstein, Stud, Honey, and Kitty all looked over and saw Dodger enter their apartment with a smug grin on his face, as per usual.

"Oh, it's just you," Rita was feeling rather stressed in light of everything, "We were actually talking about Fagin, not you. He'll be home soon."

"Ah. That's good," the mutt nodded his head somewhat uneasily, joining them in the living room, "Well, how've ya' been without me here? Mopin' around, lost for words?"

"Fine. We've been fine," Rita said, her jaw clenched, "Same as the past months and months without you."

"Okay, okay, I get it! You're ticked," Dodger backed away from her, "What is it? What happened?"

"Oh, nothing really. Little Billy simple wandered astray when he was out with old Einstein," Francis explained to Dodger.

"Nothin' wrong with that! Billy only wants ta' have fun out in tha' big city, just like me! I think he'd be fine goin' off by himself- "

" -Well then, I'm really glad you're not the one taking care of him!" Rita snapped at him, but her anger quickly melted away into regret, "Oh, I'm- I'm sorry for that, Dodge. I didn't meant it. I'm just stressed out at the moment."

"No, no, it's alright. I understand, really," he forced a bad attempt at a smile. After a moment of silence, Dodger told them about how he had been over at the Foxworths' mansion earlier that day to visit Oliver.

"An' guess what? Tha' Foxworths took in a girl cat from off tha' streets. They named her Adena."

"Ooh, I bet tha' kid's pretty happy about that, eh man?" Tito laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, Oliver likes her."

"And you… don't?" Rita guessed from the tone in his voice. He sounded happy enough, but she thought she could detect a hint of frustration.

"Eh… I mean, she's nice enough, I guess. I just…" Dodger searched for the right way to phrase it, "…I just didn't take ta' her too well. I can't say why."

"I feel ya', man! Cats can be _pretty _mean. Oliver's cool, a' course, but on tha' whole…" Tito agreed with Dodger. The Chihuahua then turned to Francis and yipped, "Hey, remember tha' time when that black cat attacked ya', man? That thing was _loco_!"

"Oh, that's quite the understatement! The little devil nearly took out my eye!" Francis shuddered dramatically, "And I still have the claw marks on my bum! Painful to sit, sometimes."

"Too much info, Frankie!" Tito laughed.

"How many times must I make it crystal clear that my name is absolutely and utterly not _Frankie_? I am Francis, you little termite!"

"Hey, man! Take that back!"

"Quiet down, guys! Knock it off!" Rita tried to yell over their barking, but she wasn't heard and gave up trying.

"What's all this ruckus about, fellas?"

Fagin had not been heard coming into his apartment over the loud barking of his dogs. Rita rolled her eyes at her gang members, _So much for being nice and quiet when Fagin arrives._

Fagin had cleaned up quite a bit since he'd started working his janitor job at Mr. Foxworth's company. He no longer wore the baggy, patched shirt and overalls, and his old hat and worn-out trench coat were long gone. Now, Fagin wore proper pants, a collared shirt, and a nice gray jacket; his red hair was washed and he was actually clean-shaven.

Dodger was very taken aback by Fagin's new look, as he hadn't seen him in ages - Fagin was always at work whenever he'd dropped by. It was both startling and relieving to see Fagin look so well-off.

"Hello, everyone! My, I am glad to be home! Cleaning all day takes a lot out of you, but I've never been happier!" Fagin eagerly greeted all his dogs, then noticed another was present, "Oh. Hi, Dodger."

_That's all I get? Just an "Oh, it's you" from him? _Dodger was very taken aback.

Fagin then turned back to his dogs and gave them a big smile, "Well, who wants a story tonight, huh? How does that sound?"

The Company barked and yipped and woofed happily in reply, but Dodger stayed silent. Fagin retrieved a familiar old storybook from his shelf, then took a seat in his recliner chair. Dodger moved to pull down the cord to turn on the reading lamp, but Fagin didn't notice and beat him to it.

"Okay, fellas… Ah! Here we are!" Fagin cleared his throat and began, "Today we find Sparky back in his house after playing out in the woods. Sparky is sad because his family doesn't seem to notice him now that he's back. They're all busy doing other things, and Sparky feels like he's being left out. He feels like he doesn't belong…"

While Fagin read the story, all his dogs surrounded him. Tito was on top of the chair, Einstein rested his head in Fagin's lap and took up all of one side, and Rita and Francis were both crowding the other side. Honey, Kitty, and Stud took up any possible room left around the chair.

It was clear that this was everyone's normal spots, but Dodger was rather hurt to find that the seating arrangement left no room for him.

The Company were all focused on the story, comfortable in their usual spots, but Dodger was pacing around the chair uncomfortably, trying to find a place for himself. Sighing, he gave up and left them. He thought about talking with Billy in Fagin's bedroom, but he knew Rita had punished him and Dodger didn't want to risk annoying her any further.

And so, Dodger walked over to the doggy door to leave their apartment. He looked back at the Company once more, "…Bye, guys. Nice seein' ya."

They didn't hear him, too entranced by the story Fagin was reading. Sighing to himself, Dodger left the apartment.

"Man… what went wrong that time? I don't mean ta' walk out on tha' gang, but I did. _Again_," Dodger gritted his teeth in frustration, "Tha' gang all gets along so well together now… even tha' puppies belong with them. But _I _don't. I was so… out of place with them."

Was it possible the Company was moving on without him? He knew he didn't really see them as often anymore, seeing as he also spent his time with the Scoundrels and the Foxworths, but he still felt very forgotten by the dogs he had thought he was friends with once again.

The mutt walked down the dirty sidewalk underneath the flickering street lamps, damp newspapers littered everywhere and the smell of asphalt in his nose. Evening had turned to night during his visit, and while the Company would be snoozing safely in their apartment, it looked like Dodger had to find some back alley to sleep in.

But then again, wasn't that what he had chosen for himself?


	7. Charity and Chase

Chapter Seven

Dodger trudged through yet another dark and damp alley, eventually finding a trashed pile of newspapers to lie down on. They were softer than the gritty concrete, and Dodger definitely needed a rest.

It was very late at night now. His beloved city was awake and energetic, but right now Dodger was tired and, quite frankly, pretty miserable.

_I'm hungry, I'm tired, but I can't fall asleep_, the mutt thought with a weary sigh, laying his head down on the newspapers. _An' what's worse, I just can't get along with tha' Company anymore. They're my friends, I _know _they're my friends, but… I don't belong with them. I'm outta' place there… but why?_

Of course, the instant Dodger wondered it he knew the answer.

_I've excluded myself. I let myself grow apart from them, an' now… well, of course I don't belong now. They're all movin' on_, Dodger sighed, flopping over onto his side.

He could blame no one but himself. He'd ditched the gang way back when, and given the chance to rejoin, he had declined. Numerous times. Dodger knew he was pushing himself away from them, and while he felt sad to do so, he couldn't honestly say he regretted it much. Strange that he should feel sadness but no regret.

But if he'd grown apart from the Company, had he become closer to anyone else? Oliver was his first thought, but then again, he wasn't exactly with the kid much anymore either. Besides, _Ollie _had his Adena to be with now.

Dodger supposed he'd also gotten closer with the Scoundrels, Nancy in particular, but he just didn't feel as close to them as he had to Oliver, and to the gang before him.

Truth was, Dodger didn't really feel that close to anyone anymore.

_But I'm just a street dog now. I guess bein' alone is in tha' job description_, Dodger huffed, but then forced himself to get up from the newspapers and stretch out his legs.

"Man, no way am I just gonna' lie here like this! It's pathetic. If I'm not sleepy, then I can hit up tha' city," the dog decided, walking out of the dark alley and onto a city sidewalk, "…I have _got _to stop all this self-pity. It's just not cool."

Where would he go first? Since leaving the Company's apartment a little while ago, he was now in Midtown South. Dodger considered maybe heading back to the gang in Chelsea, but decided against it. He really wouldn't mind seeing his Nancy babe again - surprising how much Dodger genuinely enjoyed being around her - but the Scoundrels were way up in Harlem. Fifth Avenue wasn't too far, but Dodger then remembered Oliver had seemed perfectly content with Adena when he had left the Foxworth mansion earlier that day.

"Well, why not just take some time ta' myself, huh?" Dodger woofed as he strutted down the street, "After all, tha' night is still young."

The mutt passed under the city's street lamps, walking down the sidewalks block by block until he had gotten into Greenwich Village. Even at night, there was still the pleasant hustle-and-bustle of the city all around him, and the familiarity was always comforting.

"Outta' find somethin' ta' eat," Dodger woofed when his stomach rumbled. Right away, his nose sniffed out a pizza just up ahead - a waiter was bringing it out to a couple sitting down in an outside café. Dodger snuck into the gated café as a customer walked out, and right as the waiter was about to set the pizza down, Dodger leapt up and snagged it away from him.

The lady shrieked, the man shouted, and their waiter let out a stream of curse words. Dodger, however, landed on the couple's table with the pizza in his mouth, splashing their drinks all over them. He then jumped over the gate and took off at top speed down the sidewalk.

He darted into an alley, laughing at his brilliant success; just as he was setting the pizza down and digging into it, he heard movement in the back of the dark alley.

"Who is that?" Dodger barked, "C'mon, I can hear ya'."

A small Maltese dog slowly emerged from the shadows, looking downright terrified of him. She was thin and scrawny, obviously a street dog but clearly not a very good one. A dog like a hundred others Dodger had met on the harsh streets.

"Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt ya'," he grinned at her. The Maltese quietly, hesitantly approached him, her eyes darting frantically between Dodger and his delicious-looking pizza.

"C- Can I… please h- have some?"

"Of course ya' can! Here, have all ya' want. Ya' look half-starved," Dodger smiled at the hungry Maltese.

She immediately began eating it up; seeing her eat made Dodger's own stomach rumble again, but he simply grinned and moved back a little. She, on the other paw, noticed and asked him, "D- Do you want the rest of this? I- I've had enough."

"No way, pretty lady. Ya' need tha' food more than I do. Go on, have it all," Dodger grinned. She nodded gratefully, then hungrily devoured the last of his stolen pizza.

"T- Thank you. Thank you so m- much," she stuttered, but smiled at him nevertheless. The look on her face would have made you think he'd just done the greatest thing in the world for her.

"No problamo', sweetheart. But a word of advice from tha' pro here - be way quieter when sneakin' around alleys. Trust me, it's important not ta' be noticed," he cautioned the Maltese, who assured him she would try to be stealthier. Before leaving the alley, he turned back to beam at her, "An' if ya' ever in need of a handsome stud, just ask for tha' _Dodger_! I'm always available for beautiful babes like you. Check ya' later!"

With that, Dodger headed back out into the bustling city, just as starving as he'd been before entering the alley. However, he knew he'd done a good deed - even if he was still very hungry.

"How about headin' lower down New York, then?" Dodger smirked in spite of his hunger. He hopped up on top of a taxi heading down the street, and before he knew it, he'd car surfed out of the Village and down to Lower Manhattan.

As he entered the area, a thought crossed his mind, something a particularly large and extraordinarily ugly German Sheppard had growled at him the day before… _"Lower Manhattan belongs to tha' Kings."_

_Oh, please. Who cares what that Razor says? _Dodger scoffed at the stupid threat, _Seriously now, I ain't scared of intrudin' on Club an' Razor's little playground here._

And so, Dodger continued car surfing deeper into Lower Manhattan, the "territory" of these cute little Kings. He jumped down from the taxi and made his way through the area, strutting down the sidewalk like it was nobody's business.

"See? No trouble whatsoever," Dodger smirked as he sauntered into an alleyway, kicking over a trash bin and spilling out the garbage. He dug his nose into the trash, managing to sniff out half a hotdog.

_Not much, but it'll have ta' do_, he sighed, quickly scarfing down the half-eaten hotdog.

"Ooh, whaddya' know? No big mean _King _stopped me from eating here. How shockin'," Dodger laughed, confidently strolling out and about the streets of Lower Manhattan, "This ain't their turf any more than it's mine!"

Just like normal, Dodger went up and down the streets and through the alleys, and no aggressive gang of dogs was anywhere to be seen. Actually, no other street dog at all was anywhere to be seen.

"Nothin' ta' worry about…" he smirked a little nervously. There were plenty of people, walking around the city late at night, but there weren't any stray dogs in the area.

Right as he was really starting to feel uneasy, he heard another dog running up behind him. Dodger quickly turned around and came face to face with a dark gray dog a little bigger than himself. He was a mutt, but he mostly looked like a Bullmastiff.

Dodger instinctively reared back and growled at this dog, ready to fight if he had to. The gray mutt, however, jumped back in fright and cowered before him, asking, "A- Are ya' one of _them_?"

"Whaddya' talkin' about? Am I one of what?" Dodger ceased growling, but remained wary of the stranger.

"Y'know, tha' Kings!"

"What? No, no, I'm not one of them! They probably don't even exist."

"What do ya' mean, they don't exist? Of course they do!" the Mastiff mutt's eyes darted all around them nervously, "We're in their territory! C'mon, we gotta' get outta' here!"

"Seriously? Ya' just gonna' run from those idiots Club an' Razor?" Dodger scoffed at him, "Please, we can take tha' two of them!"

But as he said it, Dodger heard vicious growling and snarling coming from the alley behind them. Out of the dark emerged not just Club and Razor, but three more giant, fuming dogs alongside them.

"Okay… that ain't just two of them…" Dodger slowly backed away, then turned to the gray dog and barked, "_Run_!"

Dodger and the gray mutt instantly took off down the street, running as fast as they could to escape from Razor's pack of dogs. The ferocious pack chased after them, barking loudly and frightening the people walking around the city.

The two raced on, darting into narrows and back alleys to try to lose Razor, but his pack kept up the chase. Eventually, Dodger and the Bullmastiff had run to the edge of Lower Manhattan, fortunately bolting into an alley that had a tall chain link fence in the middle. They sprinted for the fence, jumping up and desperately clawing their way to the top. Just as the five dogs had caught up with them, Dodger and the mutt managed to get over the chain link fence and leapt down to the other side.

Razor snarled at them through the fence, "Ya' lucky ya' outta' _our _territory! Lower Manhattan belongs to tha' Kings!"

"Yeah, I kinda got that when ya' chased us out," Dodger growled back.

"I warned ya', Dodger! From now on, ya' stay outta' our turf, got it?" the vicious German Sheppard snapped at him, then turned to the dark gray Mastiff, "An' that goes for you too, mutt!"

Without further ado, Dodger and the mutt dashed out of the alley and left Lower Manhattan behind them. When they were sure the five dogs weren't chasing after them any more, they stopped to catch their breath.

"Well, that… that was somethin' else, huh?" he rolled his eyes.

"I told ya' tha' Kings were real! Club an' Razor are chasin' every single stray dog off of their territory! That's why no other dogs were out on those streets."

"So ya' noticed that, too?" Dodger muttered, then asked, "Who are ya' anyways? What's ya' name?"

"Noah. I call myself Noah," the Bullmastiff mutt explained, "I just live out here on tha' streets, tryin' to avoid dogs like them. Of course, that's easier said than done with tha' Kings around."

"I didn't think they were anythin' ta' worry about, but… geez," Dodger huffed, "Well, Noah, my name is Dodger. I'm pretty much a loner like you."

"Nice meetin' ya', Dodger. Be careful on the streets, an' ya' better stay outta' Lower Manhattan," Noah warned him, then turned and headed off down the sidewalk, calling back, "I'd say we loners have gotta' stick together, but that ain't really what we loners do, is it?"

"No, guess not," Dodger smirked, taking off in the opposite direction.

_Well, now I know ta' steer clear of these Kings… _Dodger thought to himself, wandering around the city streets, alone once more through the night. _I guess Nancy babe was right after all… This city _is _kinda' scary sometimes. _


	8. The Steampunks

Chapter Eight

"Ya' ain't seriously worried about them, are ya'? C'mon, man, since when do _you _worry?"

"Since they chased me outta' their turf last night, Charl," Dodger explained to his cocky collie friend, "Me an' Noah barely made it out in one piece."

"Noah? Who's Noah?" Charley asked.

"Oh, just some loner I met on tha' streets. We both got run off tha' Kings' territory," Dodger shrugged, "He seems okay. Kinda' wimpy, though."

The red-scarfed mutt and the black-and-white collie were down in the Scoundrels' abandoned old subway station, standing near the edge that dropped off to the tracks below. From a bench over by the wall, Nancy called out, "Look, Charley, I'm with Dodger on this one. I don't think we should just ignore the Kings."

"She's right, man. I didn't think anythin' of them either, but _now _they got my attention."

"…Okay. I guess ya' right," Charley nodded, moving over to walk right along the edge of the drop-off. Nancy gasped when he came dangerously close to falling, but Charley just sneered at her, "Ha! I knew ya' were worried about me! I _knew _ya' liked me."

"Don't flatter yourself," she rolled her eyes, "I just don't want to see a subway train flatten you."

"Nah, no trains run through these tunnels anymore. Tha' station's abandoned," Charley assured her, continuing to carelessly strut along the edge.

"Doesn't mean ya' won't fall," Dodger smirked at him, "An' I really don't wanna' have ta' get you back up from down there. C'mon, step away before ya' hurt yourself."

"Ya' really have lost ya' sense of fun," the collie sighed, but nevertheless moved away from the dangerous drop-off edge like they requested. He gave Dodger a scathing look, but then smirked and asked, "So, whaddya' wanna' do about these Kings, if ya' so worried?"

"I'm gonna' find out more about them. Find out what they're after, what they're doin' as of late, who their leader is. Everythin' I can about them," Dodger growled just thinking about the menacing dog gang, "I just don't know how ta' do that."

The three of them thought about this for a moment, but then Nancy had a suggestion, "…Maybe you could ask another gang about them?"

"Another gang? Which one? Tha' sissy Bone-Crushers?" Charley laughed.

"No, not them. And not the Park Pack either. They roam Central Park, so they probably don't know too much about them," Nancy speculated, "…but you could ask the Steampunks. Their turf is down at Seaport and the Lower East Side, and that area is really, really close to Lower Manhattan. I bet they've been keeping tabs on the Kings."

"Y'know, I think ya' may be right, Nancy babe. Tha' Steampunks are bound ta' know somethin' about these Kings," Dodger nodded in agreement, "Didn't Bud mention them living in some old factory?"

"Yeah, but how're ya' supposed ta' find that? There's a lotta' factories an' warehouses down at tha' ports," Charley pointed out, "Besides, it ain't like tha' Steampunks are just gonna' let ya' waltz into their territory. An' I hear that they're pretty mean."

"They couldn't be as bad as the Kings… could they?" Nancy immediately looked concerned for Dodger's safety.

"Doubt it, babe. Either way, they sound like my best lead, so I gotta' go talk ta' them," Dodger decided, then gave a very big, very loud yawn.

Quick to worry over him, Nancy asked, "Are you tired, Dodge? Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

"I got… a little bit," the red-scarfed mutt shrugged, his eyes sagging, "It don't matter. I need ta' find out about tha' Kings."

"Alright, just… be careful."

"Ya' want one of us ta' come with ya', man?"

"Nah, Charl, I'll go alone. Really guys, I'll be fine," Dodger grinned, "I know tha' streets like tha' back of my paw."

"Aah, there's my buddy!" Charley laughed as Dodger walked over to the stairs that led up and out of their abandoned subway station, "See ya', man."

"Later, Dodger fans."

He went up the staircase, exiting the station and passing under the yellow tape that marked it as condemned. Dodger casually walked down the littered streets of Harlem until a taxi slowed down beside him. He quickly jumped up atop the cab and was soon heading down Manhattan, surfing through the traffic and speeding past the stop lights.

* * *

"Well… this is Lower East. Now where are those Steampunks…" Dodger wondered as he wandered through the crowded, busy streets. He really had no idea where he was going exactly - he was in the Lower East Side of the city, in what was allegedly the territory of this Steampunks gang.

Dodger stole a bite to eat from a pretzel vendor at the street corner, but he was worried that some gang member might attack him for taking food in their territory. No such dog attacked him, however, and Dodger continued down the block. Before too long, he'd wound up on Park Row with no problem, but when he got to the Bowery, a dog indeed approached him - and it was a dog he recognized.

"Noah. Didn't expect ta' run into ya' again so soon."

"Same to you, Dodger. What are ya' doin' in this part of tha' city?" the gray Bullmastiff mutt asked him.

"I'm actually tryin' ta' find tha' Steampunks. Gang of dogs who, I've been told, claim this area as their turf."

"Guess they don't do a great job protecting it if you an' I can get in," Noah laughed, "But yeah, I know this area is theirs. An' if ya' lookin' for tha' gang, I've also been told that their hangout is a small, run-down automobile factory by tha' piers. Over on that Lower East side of tha' Brooklyn Bridge. Ya' got that?"

"Run-down factory, Lower East of tha' Brooklyn Bridge. Got it," Dodger nodded.

"Alright. See ya' around," Noah grinned and disappeared into an alley while Dodger took off down the street, heading for the piers by the bridge as he'd been told.

But when he got down to Monroe Street, two collarless dogs ran up to him, growling defensively. The larger of the two barked at him, "This is tha' Steampunks territory, ya' lousy mutt! What are ya' doing here?"

"As it so happens, I was lookin' for tha' Steampunks. I'd like ta' talk with them, if that's okay," he explained to the two.

They regarded him in silence for a moment, but then the smaller one asked him, "Why do you want to talk with us, then? What are you playing at?"

"I ain't playin' at anythin'. I was just gonna' talk ta' ya' gang about tha' Kings. Ya' mighta' heard of them."

Their eyes widened when he mentioned the aggressive gang, and the larger dog nodded his head, "Oh yeah, we definitely heard of those guys. They've been giving us trouble."

"Okay… we'll take you to see Skippy," the small dog told Dodger, "But I'm warning right here, right now. Skippy don't take nothing from no one."

"I'm sure he doesn't," Dodger muttered with a grin.

The two Steampunk dogs led him down by the Brooklyn Bridge, through the streets near the harbor, and to a small, abandoned factory building hidden behind several larger warehouses. It would be very difficult to find if one didn't know where to look.

"Over here," the larger dog beckoned him over to a wide opening in the side of the wall, big enough for a dog to get through. The three of them entered the factory, and Dodger got a good look around him. Scrap metal lay dented on the ground, rusty iron chains hung from the ceiling, and large wooden crates were stacked up against the walls. There were several piles of cooked meat and bones to snack on, many heaps of torn blankets and newspapers to sleep on.

"Not a bad place. Cozy for an old factory," Dodger grinned, but he was quickly approached by several growling, suspicious dogs.

"Who is this guy?"

"Waz' he doin' here, huh? What if he a spy, huh?"

"Nah, I ain't a spy or nothin'. I just need ta' ask ya' about a gang called tha' Kings," Dodger explained himself to the gathered gang of dogs.

The fifteen or so dogs muttered amongst themselves for a bit, but they seemed to accept that he was no threat. One dog in the crowd woofed, "Ya' need ta' ask Skippy about those Kings. He knows tha' most about 'em."

"Okay, who's this Skippy anyways? An' why is his name so dumb?" Dodger couldn't help but laugh.

The crowd of dogs moved apart to let one in their number forward, one extremely large, ferocious-looking Rottweiler with a spiked collar and several nasty battle scars all over his body. The giant glared down at Dodger for a moment, then growled, "_I'm _Skippy, tha' leader of tha' Steampunks. An' I like my name. My mommy picked it out for me."

"It's… It's a lovely name," Dodger gulped nervously.

"Look, I don't know who ya' are, but ya' said ya' want to talk about tha' Kings," Skippy glowered at him, "So let's talk."

The Steampunk leader led Dodger away from the other dogs of his gang, over to a tall pile of rubber car tires, "First off, who are ya'?"

"I'm known as tha' Dodger. I'm sure ya' heard of me."

"Actually, I haven't," Skippy said dryly, "Should I have?"

"Uh… n- never mind," Dodger quickly got to the point, "I want ta' know everythin' ya' know about tha' Kings."

"I wouldn't recommend joining them, if that's what ya' had in mind."

"No way! They've run me outta' Lower Manhattan twice now, an' I happen ta' like Lower Manhattan. I'm more than a little ticked," he explained to the Rottweiler.

"Ya' been run out, huh? Well, they're trying to run us out, too. Out of our own territory," Skippy growled as he spoke.

"They want ya' territory?"

"That's right. As of now, tha' Kings have only taken tha' very bottom tip of New York as their turf. No dog who ain't a King is allowed to put a paw inside that part of Lower Manhattan, an' absolutely no one can take any food in tha' area," Skippy kicked away a rubber tire in his frustration, "But now they're looking to _expand _their territory, an' we Steampunks happen to be tha' closest gang ta' them."

"I'll say. Ya' territories are right next ta' each other!" Dodger scoffed.

"Hey, tha' Steampunks were here first. But let me tell ya', these Kings are tha' most aggressive gang I've ever seen in this city. Ya' should be very, _very _afraid of them."

"Do ya' know who their leader is?"

"No dog outside their gang knows. I've even heard not all tha' dogs _in _tha' gang know," Skippy said darkly, "But I think it may be that German Sheppard who goes by Razor. My guys see him around an awful lot."

"Yeah, I thought it was that Razor. He's big, mean, an' ugly," Dodger shook his head in annoyance, "Anythin' else ya' know about them?"

"Nothing. They're very… secretive. An' I don't like _that _at all," Skippy narrowed his eyes in thought, but sighed and eased his expression, "…Ya' seem like a good dog, Dodger. If ya' ever need anythin', feel free to ask tha' Steampunks for help."

"Thanks, Skippy! Ya' guys are a pretty cool gang," he grinned at the intimidating yet kind Rottweiler, "Have ya' ever heard of tha' Scoundrels or tha' Company?"

"Yeah, I've heard of them. Neither of those gangs give anyone any trouble, do they?"

"No, no, they're good gangs. They're both my friends, in fact," Dodger explained, climbing up the huge pile of black rubber tires, "An' ya' can count them friends ta' tha' Steampunks."

"Good to know, man," Skippy grinned, "Now get down from there. That is _my _pile of tires."

* * *

Dodger was strutting his stuff around SoHo, snagging snacks from angry New Yorkers until he actually wasn't hungry for the first time in days. His morning of talking with the Steampunks had given way to an evening of fun around the city, stealing for the heck of it and shamelessly flirting with girls.

The mongrel dog gazed at the brilliant orange sun hidden behind the city's army of skyscrapers. The tall buildings looked beautiful against the evening sky, and looking up at them, Dodger thought that today had honestly been the best day he'd had in a while.

When he left SoHo to head into Tribeca, a gray mutt dog he'd run into earlier that day came running up to him. Dodger greeted him with a warm smile, "Noah! How's it goin', buddy?"

But Noah was heavily panting, out of breath, and only stammered out, "D- Dodger! I'm so glad I found ya'!"

"What's wrong, Noah? Has somethin' happened?"

"Ya' mean ya' haven't heard?" the mixed Bullmastiff looked very surprised, but told him, "It's tha' Steampunks. They've been attacked!"

"_What_? Attacked?"

"By tha' Kings. Tha' Steampunks have been driven out, an' tha' Kings have taken their territory."


	9. Prime Suspect

Chapter Nine

It had been such a good day until now. He'd hung out with Charley and Nancy babe, made friends with the Steampunks and found out more about the Kings, and even managed to have some fun in his city - a rare thing for him as of late.

But now… the Steampunks had been attacked, ruthlessly attacked, driven out of their part of New York. And now, their home belonged to the Kings - it made Dodger's blood boil just thinking about it.

Dodger and Noah raced through the streets - once so familiar, so much fun for him, now a winding maze of fear and uncertainty with danger around every corner. He knew he was too late to save the Steampunks' turf, but he hoped there was something, anything he could do to help.

"If we don't get there faster, we won't be able to do anythin'!" Noah barked as they ran up the pavement, darted in and out of alleys, "That is, if we can actually do anythin' at all."

"Don't say that!" Dodger growled at him, "There's gotta' be _somethin'_ we can do! Tha' Steampunks are good dogs - they don't deserve this! We gotta' help somehow!"

"Well, we still gotta' get there faster!"

"Get there faster…" the red-scarfed mutt repeated, then suddenly grinned, "Alrighty, Noah! We'll car surf our way there!"

"Wha'? _Car surf_?" Noah gasped at the idea, "Ride on tha' top of movin' cars? I've never done that before in my life!"

"There's a first time for everythin'!" Dodger narrowed his eyes, looking at the blur of cars and cabs speeding through the streets. He spotted some coming to a stop at a traffic light, "C'mon, Noah! Now's our chance!"

"B- But I don't- "

"Follow me, buddy!"

The terrier mutt darted ahead towards the temporarily stopped cars, and the Bullmastiff hesitantly ran after him. Dodger easily leapt up onto a car top, then shouted for Noah to hurry on up; the poor dog did so, albeit rather clumsily. Noah almost slipped off, but he managed to steady himself just before the light blinked green and the traffic sped off once again.

"T- This is gettin' there faster?" poor Noah whimpered over the roar of the traffic, "Couldn't we have just snuck onto a subway train?"

"Nah, this is way more fun! Car surfin' is dangerous, reckless, an' tha' best way ta' get around New York, my friend!"

"We ain't even outta' Tribeca - how do ya' know this car will take us to tha' Lower East Side?"

"This one won't," Dodger spied a new line of cars heading in the direction they needed to go, "But those over there will! Get on over ta' them!"

The two street dogs leapt from car top to car top, earning themselves several angry shouts from drivers, till they got onto the ones heading east. Noah was starting to get the hang of it, but he still nervously called out, "H- Hey, ya' sure ya' know your way around New York that well?"

Dodger grinned at the frightened dog, "I been runnin' tha' streets all my life - I know tha' whole city like tha' back of my paw! Now c'mon! Hop ta' those cars turnin' onta' Chambers!"

It took a good while longer and several more car top hops, but the car surfing dogs finally reached the Lower East Side of the city. By now, evening had faded to night, and just like that, the whole city seemed to become very scary indeed. Just as fast as the sky had darkened, his beloved city had become a ruthless hunting ground where dog gang attacked dog gang in the name of territory.

Dodger and Noah knew they couldn't dare cross into Seaport and the Civic Center, for that was no longer the Steampunks' ground, no longer safe. They had to find out where the poor gang now resided - or more aptly, where they now hid.

They combed the Lower East streets, asking every stray they came across if he knew where a large group of dogs was staying. They questioned dog after dog after dog, but nothing - no leads - until one stray mutt said he'd seen several dogs hiding out in a condemned building. He even remembered seeing a big Rottweiler with scars and a spiked collar.

"It's them, it's gotta' be," Dodger panted as they raced down city blocks and in between buildings, "That big ol' Rottweiler, spike collar - gotta' be my man Skippy. Now, he said tha' building is off Lewis Street an' onta' Broome, an' Lewis is offa' Delancey Street."

"Wow, ya' really do know ya' way around tha' city."

"I'm a dog of many talents. Now let's go! It's just up that way!"

They got to Delancey, and sure enough, it wasn't long before two large, scruffy dogs ran up to them - dogs Dodger remembered seeing in the Steampunks' factory.

"Whaddya' think ya' doin' 'round here, huh?"

"Ya' better clear out, an' fast!"

"Whoa, whoa! Don't ya' guys remember me? I'm Dodger, tha' guy who came earlier today an' talked with ya' leader, Skippy."

The two Steampunks glared at him for a moment, but their expressions softened as they remembered, "Oh yeah! Dodger! Whaddya' doin' here, man?"

"I heard ya' guys - that ya' been attacked. Kicked outta' ya' turf… by tha' Kings."

"So ya' know," one of the dogs nodded, exchanging a worried look with the other, "Well, it's true. We got hit, an' hit hard. Tha' two of us were some of tha' lucky ones."

"Can I come talk with ya' gang? With Skippy?"

The two gang dogs considered this, then nodded their heads, "Okay. Follow us, Dodger - but not ya' friend here. We don't know him."

"Wha'? But Noah won't cause any trouble!"

"Our gang _just_ got attacked by a mysterious gang - we can't let this stranger in."

"It's okay, man. They're right. We all gotta' be careful on tha' streets," Noah woofed in acceptance, then turned and walked off back the way they had come, "See ya' around, Dodger."

Dodger sighed as his new friend left, but he nevertheless followed after the two dogs. They led him to a tiny building that looked like it was in serious danger of collapsing at any moment. The three dogs walked around the signs making the place as "condemned" and entered the building. He followed them down to the basement and found many more scrawny, dirty dogs who looked starved half to death. Dodger recognized many of them from earlier that day.

He sought out one dog in particular through the muttering, whispering crowd - a large Rottweiler with a spiked collar and many scars, some extremely fresh, "Skippy! I'm so glad ta' see ya' alright! Are ya' guys okay?"

To his surprise, Skippy regarded him with a cool, almost suspicious glare for a New York minute, but it vanished as he said, "Yeah. Yeah, we're okay for now. I take it ya' heard it all."

"All I've heard is that ya' got attacked by tha' Kings an' they took ya' territory. Skippy, ya' gotta' tell me what exactly happened!"

The Rottweiler took a deep breath, tried to begin, let out a deep sigh, and tried again, "They… They came outta' nowhere. It was late in tha' afternoon, most all of us where home in tha' old factory. They musta' gotten' rid of our turf patrol, 'cause they… they just all burst inta' tha' factory quicker than ya' can bark. We tried ta' fight, but we were outnumbered."

He gave a grim scoff at the memory, shaking his head in dismay, "…I thought _we_ were a big gang, but there were so many of them. When it was clear we didn't stand a chance, my dogs ran for it. Some abandoned us, but some I led outta' our territory - I had to, they chased us out."

"Guess they really like to chase dogs away, huh?" Dodger sighed to himself, "But how could they have possibly known where ya' factory hideout was?"

He motioned for Dodger to follow him out of the rest of the gang's hearing range. With a scowl and a shadow on his face, Skippy whispered, "…Someone inside my gang musta' told 'em. This _had_ ta' have been an inside job."

"That does seem… likely. But maybe not. Maybe they spied on ya' or followed ya' back or somethin'."

"Maybe. I just don't know for sure," Skippy sighed, then glared yet again as he said, "But what I do know for sure is that Razor _is_ their leader. He led tha' attack on us, an' in a violent gang like tha' Kings, tha' one who leads tha' attacks in tha' one in charge."

"Razor… He _is_ dangerous. Tha' whole gang is dangerous," Dodger growled. That vicious German Shepard was one dog he definitely wanted to avoid, "So what will ya' guys do now? Gonna' live in a condemned basement forever?"

"If you have a better place in mind, speak now. We have no choice but to stay here - tha' Kings drove us out, an' if we don't stay hidden, they may come for a second attack."

To Dodger's eyes, Skippy was a very different dog. When they'd met earlier that day, the Rottweiler's eyes shone with a likeable gruffness, responsible but fun. Now, his eyes were a dull shade of suspicion, and Dodger couldn't shake the feeling that he was being scrutinized.

"Well, Dodger, I don't mean ta' be rude, but I'm gonna' ask ya' ta' leave now. Tha' Steampunks need some time to… recover. To piece back what's left of us… _who's_ left of us."

"Ya' sure, man? I wanna' help ya' guys, whatever I can do- "

" -It's alright. There's nothing you can do now anyways, Dodger. Nothing."

He cast Skippy one final pained, sympathetic look, and then Dodger was out of the building and back onto the streets. On a car top again, he sped away from Lewis Street, away from that condemned building where the Steampunks hid inside. Still, Dodger wished there had been something, anything he could've done to help.

Skippy turned back to his gang of dogs, "Steampunks… there are few of us left, I know… an' I completely trust every single one of ya'. Ya' guys are my gang - my family. I _know_ that no dog among us gave tha' Kings' tha' location of our factory."

The beaten and bruised dogs all let out woofs and barks of thanks and praise, but when the noise died back down, one Steampunk spoke up, "But, Skippy… if it wasn't one of _us_ who did it… then who did? Who's the traitor?"

"We can't know for sure," their leader grimaced, his eyes narrowed as he addressed the dogs before him, "…But I do have a suspicion. Tha' attack today came completely out of nowhere, but more importantly, what _else_ happened today? Who found out tha' location of our factory - our home?"

Every dog there knew at once, but none of them spoke up. They just waited. Skippy paced around the floor of the dark, crumbling basement in silence, until finally, "…That' right. We don't know for sure. I could be completely wrong. But you all know as well as I do that it looks like the traitor is… Dodger."

The Steampunks exploded into angry barks, shouts, all yelling about Dodger and the Kings - the cruel gang who had stolen everything from them.

"I knew he couldn't be trusted!"

"So arrogant! So full of it! Always bragging about- "

"He told his gang where we live!"

" -has to be. Only thing that makes sense!"

"Yes, it is. It's tha' only thing that makes sense," Skippy repeated, silencing all the furious barking, "Tha' very same day that this Dodger find tha' way ta' our factory hideout, we get _attacked_! Tha' very same day! An' by who? By tha' Kings, who just so happen ta' be tha' gang Dodger claimed ta' be _investigating_. It's obvious he found our hideout, gained our trust, then ran back an' told tha' Kings where we were!"

"But we don't _actually_ know for certain - could be a coincidence - "

"Ya' right, we don't know for certain. It _could_ be a coincidence. But I can't an' won't take that chance, not after tonight's attack. Fellas', we gotta' move to a new hideout - suspiciously enough, Dodger just found out where we are now. So let's get going!"

The poor Steampunks were less than enthusiastic about having to relocate twice in one night, but the dogs followed their leader out of the old building and onto the streets of New York City. Skippy turned back to them, "No one says a word to Dodger anymore, ya' understand? Not a word. From now on, he's our prime suspect."


	10. Some Time Off

Chapter Ten

Oliver yawned a big yawn and stretched out his front paws, very contently and very lazily lying on the cushioned window seat. The sun's rays streamed through the glass and warmed his orange fur, the city's noises just faintly heard as a pleasant hum.

Once Mr. Foxworth left for his business and Jenny caught the bus to her private school, mornings in the mansion were rather slow and uneventful. Mrs. Foxworth was there sometimes, but she usually ran off to a charity auction or a women's club or something else sufficiently proper, while Winston was always busy tidying up the mansion. Georgette, of course, spent a lot of time up in her luxurious bedroom - _More like a suite_, Oliver scoffed - and the poodle rarely ever interacted with him.

He himself preferred to spend the mornings taking a nice, long nap, as all cats do. Today he had woken up much earlier than normal, but that was because he now spent his mornings very differently: with Adena.

Oliver hopped down from the window seat when he saw the lovely calico cat prance into the living room, "Good morning, Adena! I hope you slept well last night."

"Last night? Why would I be asleep at _night_?" Adena laughed.

"Because… night is when everyone goes to sleep. I always curl up on Jenny's bed at night."

She snickered at the dumbstruck expression on his face, "Oh, Ollie! You really are a strange cat. You've been around humans and dogs so long that you've forgotten how to be a cat."

"I know how to be a cat! I sleep all the time!" he protested indignantly, "…That's what we do, right? Sleep?"

"Not at night we don't," Adena grinned and leapt up on top of the sofa, "We cats are awake at night! When the sun goes down, the fun _really_ begins. Last night I left the mansion and stretched my legs out on the streets."

"Adena! You shouldn't leave here! Our family would worry if they knew!"

"Please. I got back just fine," she rolled her eyes, "Ollie, there's nothing wrong with getting out of the house every now and then. And I can take care of myself out there. Been doing it pretty much all my life."

"I know you lived on the streets, but now you have a family that loves you, plenty of good food, and a safe place to live," Oliver meowed to her, jumping up to join her on the sofa. She smiled at his kind-hearted nature, but could barely resist slipping into her usual smirk.

"Ollie, I have _got_ to take you out with me one night. It'll do you some good."

He would've normally continued to chide her for sneaking out, but the prospect of going out into the city, alone with Adena through the night, was just too wonderful. He felt lightheaded, his heart a feather fluttering away from him, and Oliver didn't chastise her again afterwards.

Later in the afternoon, the school bus beeped up to the Foxworth mansion on Fifth Avenue. Jenny stepped off, waved goodbye to her friends, and ran into her home with her book bag slung over her shoulder.

"Welcome back, Miss Jennifer!" Winston bumbled up to take her bag, "I hope the school day was enjoyable. Your mother called and said she would be back home in less than an hour."

"Thanks, Winston!" the redheaded nine-year-old gave her butler a big hug, then ran out of the entrance hall and into the living room. She soon ran out of there, up to the library, next to her bedroom, over to the billiard room, even to Georgette's suite, and finally to the piano room.

"_There_ you are, Oliver! I've been looking all over for you!" Jenny laughed and went over to pet him. He was lying on top of the grand piano, purring contently as she stroked his fur, "Oh, and Adena's here, too! I'm glad the two of you get along so well!"

Adena was sunbathing over on the windowsill; Jenny pet her as well, then sat down on the piano and began her routine practice. It had been well over a year since she had first practiced with Oliver atop the piano, and now she was much better at playing the instrument and Oliver was a much bigger cat.

But when Adena hopped down and trotted out of the room, Oliver jumped off the piano and followed after her. Jenny continued her practice alone, but couldn't help grinning as her eyes trailed after him, "I suppose it's only natural."

The two cats went down the grand staircase and strolled around for a bit, ending up in the kitchen for a bite to eat. To their surprise, they found another four-legged someone already there, gobbling up the food from Georgette's favorite silver dish.

"Dodger! I didn't even hear you come in!" Oliver meowed, happily surprised.

"Came in through tha' back doggy door like usual. Ya' could sneak in tha' mansion totally unnoticed back that way," the mutt grinned, satisfied with his impressive stealth skills.

"Good to see you again, Dodger," Adena smiled, her voice carrying a note of apology. Her eyes moved to his ribs, faintly visible through his ragged and unkempt fur, "Um… not to be rude or nothing, but… you're _really_ thin."

"I'm on a diet. Wanna' look good in my summer bikini."

"Oh, be serious, Dodge!" Oliver's face was soaked with worry, "You look starved! You just _can't_ be getting enough food on the streets!"

"Well… maybe I'm not. Maybe I didn't eat today till now. But tha' city's my home, little bro," Dodger dismissed his worries, but a worry of his own crossed his mind, "…Then again, not all of tha' city's real safe anymore."

"What? You mean the big, bad city's not safe for _you_?"

"I'm as shocked as you, girly," the dog rolled his eyes at Adena, "But _this_… this I'm serious about. I guess I shoulda' told ya' before… See, three days ago I was diggin' for food in a trash bin when these two dogs - a German Shepard named Razor an' a Pit Bull called Club - came up an' said they were in some gang called tha'_ Kings_. They said tha' Kings owned tha' food, tha' alleyway, tha' whole lowest part of Manhattan. I didn't take 'em seriously till night before last."

"Why? What happened then?" Oliver asked, more worried than ever.

"After I came here an' met Adena, I went ta' see tha Company. Later that night I wound up in Lower Manhattan an' met this loner dog named Noah. But then, we got chased outta' tha' area by them Kings! That's got me ticked, so I'm gonna' do somethin' about these dogs!"

"But why do you even have to get involved in this?" the orange cat whimpered fearfully, "What if you get hurt? Remember when Sykes had Roscoe and DeSoto attack you?"

"Yeah. That wasn't fun. But kid, this gang is a threat ta' more dogs than me. They're keepin' a lotta' food all for themselves."

"Yeah, but what do they really _want_? Do they have a goal?" Adena asked, peering down at them from the kitchen counter she'd hopped up on.

"As far as I can tell, territory," the red-scarfed mutt said with a sigh, "Y'see, yesterday I made friends with a gang called tha' Steampunks. They're good dogs, 'specially their leader, Skippy. But last night tha' Kings drove 'em outta' their home ta' take more of tha' city as their territory."

"That poor gang! At least they're okay, aren't they?"

"For now, yeah. They're in hiding. Lotta' 'em were beat up… hurt bad," Dodger sighed, remembering the looks of utter defeat on the Steampunks' faces, "Tha' streets are more dangerous than ever now. I dunno' what I'm gonna' do, little bro."

The grown but not-quite grown orange cat twitched his tail nervously, he began to talk but did so hesitantly, "Maybe… Maybe you could… spend some time off the streets. Live here with us for a few days. It would… It would be safe."

"Off tha' streets'? Kid, I dunno'… Tha' streets of New York are my home," Dodger tried to explain, but it felt more like an apology, an excuse, "I mean, I lived with ya' for months an' months… It ain't that I don't love stayin' here, 'cause I do. It's just… I love tha' streets."

"But the streets of New York aren't safe, not with those Kings around," Oliver pressed on desperately, "It's more than just the Kings, though. You are _starving_ out in the city."

He gave no response to that other than an angry grunt. Oliver retaliated with a very determined and demanding glare that Dodger knew he couldn't refuse. He sighed and grinned at the cat's persistence, "…Okay, kiddo'. You win. I'll stay in tha' mansion for a little while - maybe it'll be good ta' get away from everythin' for a bit… from tha' Kings, from goin' hungry… an' from… from tha' Company."

"Dodge, you _can't_ still be tense with them! You guys should've put all that behind you and moved on."

"That' tha' problem, little bro. _They've_ moved on… without me."

"…What do you mean? I- I don't understand," Oliver's face fell, sad and confused, "You and the gang… and Fagin… I thought you guys were friends. You should be friends!"

"We are! I mean, we _were_… We fought, but we made up… an' now it's over. It's all over. See, kid, there comes a time when people… even friends… well, they gotta' move on. Go their separate ways."

"I don't believe that," the cat trembled, on the verge of tears, "You're- You're just saying that because you- you want to be petty and- and _hate_ the gang and- "

" -No, kid! No, I don't hate tha' gang. I don't," he tried to console the teary-eyed cat, "Tha' Company an' I still like each other an' all, they just… they get along better without me. But we _are_ still friends. Would it make ya' feel better if I promise ta' go an' see tha' guys again after I stay here?"

Oliver nodded and sniffed back a tear or two.

"Okay then. I'll go see 'em, just for you! I promise, little bro."

"Well, that was certainly… poignant."

Dodger quickly glared up at the cat on the kitchen counter who watched with an amused grin on her face, "Look here, _girly_! I ain't gonna' hear ya' talk ta' me like that, an' certainly not ta' me an' _Oliver_!"

"No, no, Dodger. Adena's right. I guess I was being a little silly," the orange tabby cat instantly spoke up in her defense, "Silly and poignant, yeah. But thank you for promising. It means a lot."

"Kid, ya' don't gotta' put up with her! She can't just be all rude an' haughty an' sarcastic- "

"Dodger, _you're_ rude and haughty and sarcastic. Don't get on to Adena for it," Oliver chided him, flicking his tail irritably.

No one quite knew what to say after that, so it was fortunate that Mrs. Foxworth came into the kitchen just then. She was very glad to see Dodger with her cats - the scruffy dog was always a welcome guest - and she quickly went about fixing him some more of Georgette's exquisite, expensive dog food.

The tension between the three of them was happily forgotten.

* * *

She snuck quietly through the halls of the mansion, light on her paws as always. It was deep into the nighttime now - the Mr. and Mrs. were fast asleep in their bed, Winston had gone home for the night, Georgette was tucked under her extravagant silk blanket, and Jenny was sleeping up in her bedroom with Oliver curled up beside her. No one awake to see her.

The cat crept from room to room, door to door, until she finally made it to the back of the mansion. The doggy door was just a little further ahead, and then she would be out and about the city for the night.

Except there was one resident of the mansion she had forgotten about.

"An' where exactly are ya' off to at this fine time of night, my dear Adena?"

"Dodger," an irritated smile formed on her face, "Didn't know you were up. I was heading out for the night. Y'know, have some fun out in the city. It's what we cats do when the sun goes down."

"Right, right… Sneakin' outta' tha' mansion. In tha' middle of tha' night. Makin' sure no one sees ya' - congrats on that last part, 'cause, y'know, _I_ saw ya' - Are ya' _sure_ there ain't anythin' suspicious goin' on here?" Dodger smirked while glaring at her.

"Look, I know you don't like me- "

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Adena smiled what would normally be a warm, pleasant smile, "But I'm not doing anything wrong. Just want to get some fresh air and have fun in the city. What can I say? I love the streets. Isn't that what you said yourself earlier today?"

"Yeah. Guess it is."

"Goodnight, Dodger."

Adena briskly turned from him and left the mansion through the doggy door in the back. Dodger continued to glare after her for no particular reason, long after she'd disappeared into the night. He had half a mind to follow her, but he was tired and decided against it.


	11. Good Fortune

Chapter Eleven

Night shifts were always very long and tiring for Fagin to work, but last night's shift had been particularly long and tiring. It wasn't that his janitorial duties were all that difficult, because they weren't. In fact, Fagin was really quite grateful to have his job cleaning up around the building - without it, he wouldn't be able to rent his modest Chelsea apartment and purchase dog food for his pets, even with the Foxworths occasionally helping. Yes, Fagin knew just how fortunate he was to be working the exhausting hours he had.

Regardless, those exhausting hours were still very exhausting, and Fagin was glad his work was finished for the night. The man returned the brooms, mops, and other cleaning supplies to the janitor's closet, closed and locked the door, then started on his way out of the office building. Before he reached the door, however, a man called out his name.

Fagin jumped in surprise - he thought everyone else on the floor had gone home already - and whipped around to see Mr. Andrew Pierce, the CEO of the business. The boss of every single employee in the office.

"M- Mr. Pierce… I, uh, I didn't see you there…" Fagin attempted a nervous smile, but he knew it was pretty pitiful, "C- Can I help you with something, sir?"

In all the time he had worked at the business, he had never once seen Mr. Pierce change his facial expression. He always wore an unamused frown and an air that made you fear you were doing something wrong.

"I need you to come into my office at once. Mr. Foxworth and I were just discussing your employment here," Mr. Pierce explained in the most frightening monotone. Fagin was glad to see his friend David Foxworth, executive CEO of the company, but his presence provided little comfort at the moment.

"Y- Yes, sir. Right away, sir," Fagin gulped and nervously stepped into Mr. Pierce's office. He could almost feel the temperature of the room drop as he walked through the door.

* * *

"This is great! This is wonderful! Oh, fellas, you'll never believe it! Hey, I can't believe it!" Fagin cheered aloud as he practically burst through the door of his apartment. His dogs all instinctively looked up and began barking their greeting. Rita remained lying down on the rug and Tito stayed on the couch with Honey, Stud, and Kitty, but Einstein and Francis both loyally bounded over to their owner - perhaps because the two of them had been with Fagin the longest.

The man paused and took a deep, then happily announced, "I got _promoted_! Well, not exactly promoted - I'm not gonna' be a janitor anymore - but I wasn't fired! Oh boy, I _thought_ I was getting fired! I really did!"

Fagin removed and hung up his gray jacket, then took a seat on the edge of the couch before sliding down to sit on the carpet, a big grin on his face. All seven dogs in the living room gathered around him, Einstein licking his face happily.

"Alright, alright! Knock it off, you old timer!" he laughed as he wiped away Einstein's slobber, "Okay, guys! I'll explain it all to you! Y'see, I had just got done with my work shift and was about to leave for home when the top dog, Mr. Pierce, called me into his office! Boy, is he ever scary! At least that's what I always thought before!

"Mr. Foxworth was there, too, and Mr. Pierce said it was about my employment! Right then, I thought for sure he was gonna' fire me for that time I cleaned the women's restroom while there was still a lady in a stall! But instead, the man said that he was real impressed with my dedication and good attitude! Mr. Foxworth explained that there was a job opening in his office division, and he had asked Mr. Pierce to hire _me_ for the vacancy. And Mr. Pierce agreed!

"Now I'm gonna' be an office worker, with my own cubicle and everything! I'll be working with Mr. Foxworth - Oh! And they both said I'll receive training for the job, so I'm not worried one bit! Fellas, our lives really are looking up! I'll make more money for us from now on!" Fagin gave each of his dogs a big hug as he finished his news. The dogs didn't understand everything he had said, but they knew their owner was very happy for this new job, and if Fagin was happy, they were happy.

"Fellas, I know we haven't had it too good before. I mean, I've lived in shelters and under bridges, in a rooming house on the West Side, and then in our old wooden houseboat, of course. Boy, I bet I bought that boat for way more than it was worth! But then we got our own apartment up in the Bronx. And now? A place in _Chelsea_! Who would have thought, eh? _Us_ in Chelsea!"

He hugged each of his dogs in turn; as he embraced them, Fagin placed a kiss on each of their foreheads while a few tears began welling up in his eyes. They all remained on the floor together for a few minutes more until Fagin slowly got to his feet.

"We outta' go out to celebrate, everyone! I know it's really early in the morning, but I'm not even tired anymore!" he beamed at them, "How about we all walk over to Chelsea Park? You guys can run around and have some fun! Wanna' go?"

His dogs all barked enthusiastically.

"Great! Give me just a few minutes to eat and get ready, then we'll head out!" Fagin grinned, proceeding into the small kitchen to fix himself some food.

In the living room, meanwhile, his dogs were feeling the happiest they had felt in a long while. The Company could hardly believe their good fortune.

"Boys… I think we're gonna' be just fine," Rita smiled to her gang, her family, with her eyes closed in awe of their wonderful situation.

"Sure we'll be fine! We are _strong_! Together we are strong!" Tito yipped proudly.

"I do partake in your rambunctious enthusiasm, my little friend," Francis grinned down at him.

The Chihuahua puzzled over his words for a moment, "Was that… an insult?"

"Of course not! I am simply stating my joy for our good- "

" -Okay, okay! I just can never tell with you, man!" Tito rolled his eyes at the Bulldog, but then had a thought, "Ooh! Ooh! Ya' think we could go an' see my lovely lady while we're out? I haven't seen my woman in ages!"

"It's too far away, Tito! You are _always_ going on and on about that silly poodle," Rita took a turn rolling her eyes. Every other dog in the room aside from Tito groaned in agreement.

"Lo siento, but I just can't help it! Georgette and I are in love with each other!"

"Of course you are," Rita gave him a dry smile.

"Like any of ya' would know! Last time I checked, _I'm_ tha' only one here with any romance in his life!" the smug Chihuahua laughed at his friends.

"Blasphemy, you pipsqueak!"

"So not true, Tito."

"The three of us most certainly do have significant others," Francis huffed with his chest puffed out, "I happen to have a very beautiful woman myself. Oh, I dote on her like no other!"

To this, Tito burst into laughter, "Ha ha ha! Oh, man! _You_ with a beautiful babe? Not likely, Frankie!"

"I never knew you had a girl, Frank! You certainly never mentioned her before now," Rita could barely keep herself from laughing like Tito.

"Well… you never inquired of my personal life before now," the English Bulldog sniffed indignantly, "Her name is Penelope and _she_ appreciates my cultural sophistication and artistic endeavours."

"Uh huh. Sure."

"We believe you, Frankie."

"Oh, bugger off," he scoffed at the two of them, then put on a grin, "Well, no need to ask about your personal life, Rita. We all know about _your_ romantic affairs."

"What are you talking about? I have no romance in my life, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Poppycock! We know who you fancy!"

"It's pretty obvious, senora," Tito smirked up at her, "_Dodger_!"

Any trace of a smile vanished from Rita's face when he spoke that name, "Tito… I'm not with Dodger. I never have been and I never will be."

"Yeah, right! Ya' liked him for ages!" the red-haired Chihuahua snickered and began bouncing up and down on the couch, "Tha' reason ya' both fought an' fought is that ya' both love each other!"

"Dodger loves himself more than anyone else, Tito. He lives for himself, and I live for you guys, my gang. Why would I want to be with someone like _him_?" she shot out without so much as a blink. Everyone was quiet for a bit as they soaked in her words. Tito even let out a slow, shocked whistle.

"But Rita dear… Dodger is our _friend_. You should refrain from insulting him so," a very taken-aback Francis told her off.

"I'm not insulting him, guys, I'm just… I'm being honest. I mean, yeah, he's our friend, but Dodger only looks out for himself," Rita insisted to her astounded friends, "Don't you remember when he made the choice to live his life for us, Oliver, or himself? He chose himself."

"Rita, that ain't exactly-"

" -Look, can we just forget it? It doesn't matter anyways. Let's all go to the park and have some fun for a change," she dismissed the subject, then turned to the dog who hadn't said anything for a while, "Einy? Einstein?"

To everyone's shock, the old gray Great Dane was lying down on the couch, looking as if her were about to cry. The Company hadn't noticed how upset their elderly friend was until now.

"Einstein, man, what's wrong?"

"Have we done or said something, old chum?"

"Einy… what is it?" Rita asked him in the gentlest voice she could.

The poor old dog's bottom lip quivered and a few tears trickled down his cheek, but Einstein tried to regain his composure as best he could. He managed a weak smile, then sniffed a little bit and told them, "It's… nothing. I just… I just miss…"

"…Annie," Rita said in a hoarse whisper, "Einy, I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to…"

"…to talk about… our own romances like that," Tito hung his head shamefully.

"No, no, it's okay. You guys are happy… so I'm happy," the kind Great Dane smiled at them all, then laid his head back down on the couch and said no more.

Rita, Tito, and Francis thought it best to say nothing else to him after that, and Stud, Honey, and Kitty didn't fully understand what was going on, so they said nothing either. Fortunately, Fagin had finished eating his meal and was ready to head out the door, "Okay, you mangy mutts! Let's get a move on it! Come on, fellas!"

The three puppies happily ran up to him, shortly followed by Francis and Tito. Rita came to the door as well, but she looked back at the Great Dane still lying on the couch and asked, "Einy? Are you coming?"

"…No. You guys… you go ahead. I don't feel up to it."

When his oldest, most beloved dog didn't move off the couch, Fagin came to his side. The man scratched his ears and rubbed his stomach, but Fagin seemed to understand that Einstein felt a great weariness, so he let him be and returned to his other dogs.

"C- Can I come with you guys?"

A tiny voice asked the question, and a tiny puppy showed himself from out of Fagin's bedroom.

"Billy, you know you're still being punished. You tried to sneak out by yourself _again_ after I specifically told you not to. You can't come," Rita lectured him in a stern voice, then shook her head in exasperation, "Little troublemaker."

"But… I'll be good this time. I promise I will."

"Nuh uh! You can't come! You're being punished, you runt!" Stud woofed at his small younger brother, causing their sisters to laugh and giggle.

"Stud, that's mean," Rita told him off, then sighed and turned to Billy again, "Alright. I suppose you can come, but you have to behave yourself, you hear me?"

Billy nodded, then happily joined his bigger siblings beside the door. Fagin cast one more sad glance back at Einstein, then flicked the lights off and shut the door behind him and his seven dogs. Their apartment was on the ground floor, so the gang quickly set off down the sidewalk, following Fagin to the park.

It felt great for the Company to stretch their legs out in the city, and Chelsea was a pretty nice neighborhood to walk around. There were trees and bushed outside of brick buildings, and because it was very, very early in the morning, there weren't as many bustling New Yorkers everywhere. They soon reached Chelsea Park, and while Fagin was content to sit down on a park bench, his dogs all took off running around in the green grass and along the paved walkways.

Stud and Honey had started a game of chase with Tito, and right now the yappy Chihuahua was the pups' moving target. Francis and Rita were walking along the pavement together when the Bulldog confided something in her, "You know, Rita dear, I do worry ever so much about poor old Einstein. Do you think he will be alright?"

"I hope he will, Frank. I'm worried about him, too," the Saluki sighed, thinking back to the events at the apartment, "I think we really upset him, bringing up our love lives. The poor guy misses Annie so much."

"These things take time to heal. It's only been a few short months since Annie was… since she passed away," Francis sadly reminded her.

"Yeah, I know," Rita sighed again, then decidedly changed the conversation with a sly grin on her face, "So… tell me more about this Penelope."

"Oh, yes! Well, um… She is quite… By that, I mean she is… Oh, Rita. I have a confession to make. There is no Penelope."

The two of them continued laughing and talking while they walked; when they got to the park's sports fields, Rita and Francis turned around and started back for the rest of the Company. Stud, Kitty, and Honey had all worn out the normally-energetic Tito, and after another half-hour of the puppies playing, even they were tired and ready to head home.

"C'mon, guys! Time to go back!" Rita called out to her gang, then made sure every dog was present and accounted for, "Tito, Stud, Honey, Francis, and… Oh! There you are, Kitty! That's everyone."

"Wait a moment, Rita… Did little Billy not come as well? I can't quite recall," Francis asked her.

"…No, I don't think so. He's still being punished, remember?"

"Yeah! The little runt couldn't come 'cause he's still in trouble!" Stud laughed again at his brother's expense.

"_You'll_ be in trouble if you don't lay off him. Enough is enough," Rita chastised the biggest puppy, then called out to the rest of her gang, "C'mon guys, let's go home."

Fagin and his six dogs left Chelsea Park and returned to the city streets once more, making their way back to their apartment complex as the first light of morning shone above the steel skyscrapers.


	12. Interactions

Chapter Twelve

Fagin was walking his six dogs down the paved sidewalk on the way back to their apartment home. Despite the early hour, the streets had already begun to fill up, though the morning rush of suits and ties scrambling to get to work had not quite hit yet. Rita, Francis, Tito, Honey, Kitty, and Stud were all worn out and ready to take a nap; even Fagin had the whole day to rest up - his training as an office worker began the next day.

When they were only a few blocks away from home, Rita spotted a male dog approaching their gang. Surprisingly, the black-and-white, short-furred collie was a dog she recognized, even though she'd only met him once before.

"Hey, hey!" the collie greeted them with a smug grin and a wagging tail, "Just tha' gang I was lookin' for! Glad ta' run into ya'."

Francis frowned at the dog, "I do apologize, but I cannot recall if we have ever- "

" -His name is Charley. We met him the night we got rid of Stone and his Mafia men, remember?" Rita explained to her confused gang; Tito and Francis nodded in understanding.

"Ooh, am I ever thrilled than an absolutely _beautiful_ babe like you remembers me!" Charley threw her a big, cheesy grin, "An' believe me, baby, you _are_ beautiful."

"_Ughh_, Rita, let us get away from this utter ruffian!" Francis scowled.

"It's alright, Frankie. I don't need him to tell me I'm beautiful," Rita shared a grin with the disgruntled Bulldog, "But Charley here _did_ help us fight off Stone, so I don't think he's a bad as he seems."

"Thanks, baby… I think," he smirked at her.

"Don't think too hard. You'll hurt yourself," she gave him a smirk of her own, "Listen, we were just on our way back home, so say what you need to say. Why were you looking for us?"

"Mmm, I'll tell ya' if ya' wanna' go somewhere private. Just you an' me, whaddya' say?"

Tito began angrily yipping in her defense, and Francis rolled his eyes and scowled again, "Honestly, let us leave already! Pip, pip, Rita!"

"Fine then, you guys leave. Go with Fagin and the puppies back to the apartment," Rita ordered her gang, "I'm gonna' hear what Charley has to say. I'm not afraid to be alone with him."

"I think ya' mean ya' just can't resist tha' prospect of being alone with me!" the black-and-white dog sneered at her.

"Believe me, you don't take much to resist," she threw back at him, causing Charley's sneer to widen. Rita turned back to the Company, "I'll be fine, guys. You go home with Fagin, and I'll be back a little bit later."

"If you insist, my dear."

"Whatever, senora."

With that, Rita nodded to Charley to follow her across the street's white-striped walkway, leaving the Company behind and heading down the roads of Chelsea. Fagin had no clue why she left, but the man shrugged and continued on home with his other dogs.

Charley and Rita simply strolled down the city streets for a bit, passing over tossed-away newspapers and crushed-up Coke cans that littered the sidewalks. Charley made a point of walking uncomfortably close to Rita and leering at her body in a way that, to her disgust, reminded her just a little too much of Roscoe. But she wasn't about to be intimidated, and Rita strutted beside him with her muzzle held high.

They walked until they found an empty basketball court among the back alleys, and the two dogs slipped through a hole in the chain-link fence and ambled onto the asphalt. Charley leapt at a scratched-up basketball and kicked it out of his way with a laugh; he then looked back at her with a sly grin, "So… now that we're all _alone_…"

" -You can tell me what you have to say, and I can go home."

"Ah, such a stick-in-the-mud!" the collie shook his head in dismay, "Alright, you win. I was lookin' for you guys to ask if you'd seen my pal Dodger lately."

"Dodger just _had_ to be brought up two times in one night…" she sighed in irritation, but answered him in all seriousness, "No, none of us have seen Dodger for a couple of days now."

"Oh no… I was afraid of that…"

"What do you mean? What are you afraid of?"

"Well, I don't know if… Ya' wouldn't… Look, have ya' ever heard of gang of dogs called tha' Kings?" Charley asked her in a shaky voice. He sounded genuinely frightened, and Rita honestly wished he would go back to his arrogant, condescending tone.

"No… No, I've never heard of them."

"This gang… from what Dodger told me, an' from tha' rumors I've heard on tha' streets as of late… tha' Kings are bad news. I mean, _real_ bad. Dodger said maybe a week ago that these two vicious dogs - Club an' Razor, he called 'em - stopped him from gettin' food. They said tha' lowest part of Manhattan was their _gang_ _territory_. Two days later, Dodger told me he actually got chased out of there by them Kings," Charley related to her everything he knew had happened, and the concern was growing on both of their faces, "Last time I saw Dodger, he said he wanted ta' find out more about tha' Kings. I think he actually wanted ta' _stop_ them. He left ta' ask this other gang, tha' Steampunks, if they knew anything… an' I haven't seen him since. It's been days, Rita! Something mighta' happened ta' him!"

"Okay, okay… calm down, honey," she attempted to soothe him, but Rita was becoming very worried herself, "I- I'm sure Dodger can take care of himself. And the Dodge I know for sure wouldn't let these Kings get the better of him."

The poor collie still seemed really worked up, but her words did manage to calm him down. Charley grinned. Of course the Dodge he knew wouldn't be pushed around by the Kings! Why had he even been worried?

"Thanks, Rita baby. I think ya' right about Dodger being okay."

"Of course I'm right. Women are always right. And don't call me _baby_!"

"Ooh, sassy! I like myself a woman with some attitude!" he flirted, stepping up rather close to her once more- but again, she wouldn't let herself be intimidated.

"Better keep looking, Charley, 'cause I'm not the woman for you."

"Please, call me Charl. All of my girlfriends do."

"Oh yeah, with an attitude like that, you must really be loved by the ladies… _Charl_," Rita rolled her eyes at the cocky dog.

"I'd rather be loved by you than by all tha' other ladies in tha' world," Charley beamed at her, then ran over to the opening in the court fence, "Whaddya' say ta' a walk in tha' city with me? There ain't no one I'd rather be with."

"Oh, alright then. If it'll get you to shut up already," she grinned in spite of herself, then joined him in slipping out of the chain fence and heading back out onto the streets, "Geez, you act so similar to him… it's crazy."

"Huh? I act like who?"

"Dodger. You two are just so alike," Rita explained as they darted in and out of the crowds of frantic New Yorkers who were hurrying to grab some breakfast and catch the subway to work.

"Well, yeah! Dodger an' I pretty much grew up together. He had been alone on tha' streets ever since he was a few weeks old, an' I was all alone after my dad was… my dad…" Charley found himself to finish his sentence, so he took a couple deep breaths, "Anyways, Dodger and' I helped each other survive for a long while. Eventually, I found an' abandoned subway station ta' call home, an' Dodger got taken in by your guy, Fagin. We hung out from time ta' time, an' we still do."

"Well, sounds like you're on better terms with Dodger than any of us are," Rita sighed, warranting a confused look from Charley.

"Why's that? I thought he was good friends with ya' guys."

"He's a friend, but not exactly a good one. Dodger never really spends much time with us anymore. I thought he would after we all apologized for arguing so long… but I guess not. I guess Dodger just lives for himself now," Rita shook her head in frustration, "But it's his life, so he can do what he wants. It's just… a lot of _stress_. I don't just mean from Dodger. It's stress from… everything. Being leader of my gang. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one in the Company with any sense."

"I don't know what ta' tell ya', baby. I wish I did, but I don't. I just hope that spendin' tha' morning with me helped relax ya' a bit. I'd hate for ya' ta' be stressed," Charley cast her a genuinely caring smile, and it actually did make her feel much less stressed.

"Thanks, honey. I do feel better… but I have to go now. Leading my gang may be stressful, but I've gotta' do it. They need me, and that means I can't spend all day away from them. Time to go home."

"Aww, but we barely spent any time together!" he put on a pouty face, then grinned and wagged his tail back and forth happily, "C'mon now, baby. I'm sure tha' Company will be fine. Forget them an' stay out with me - I know it's what ya' want."

"Charl, you do _NOT_ tell me what I do or don't want. And I can't just forget my gang, even for a little while. I am their _leader_," Rita stood up tall and told him off, taking Charley by surprise, "…I don't want to get your hopes up, so you gotta' know… I'm not looking for a relationship. I have too much to worry about in my life to have any romance, Charl. You can't be with me."

"…Right. Okay, I gotcha'. I understand," the collie sighed and did his best to smile, "Let's get you back home."

The two dogs started on the long walk back to the apartment complex in silence. Rita really hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, but she just had to state how things were going to be before Charley - or herself - got any other ideas.

They had wandered out father than she had expected, so Rita suggested they both car surf the rest of the way - partly because it would get them there faster, mostly because riding atop fast-moving cars would leave no room for more awkward conversation.

"Here we are. Home sweet home for the Company," Rita smiled, nodding towards their door on the ground floor of the Chelsea apartment complex they had arrived at.

"Seems like a nice place for ya' gang ta' live."

"Probably nicer than an abandoned subway station," Rita tried to say casually, but she couldn't help an awkward smile as she offered, "You know… if you ever need a place to spend the night…"

"What, so one minute ya' sayin' we can't ever be together, then tha' next ya' offer for me ta' spend tha' night with you? Are ya' serious?"

"That's not what I - _Ughh_! Is all you guys think about with a girl whether or not you have any chance of- "

"No, baby, I didn't - Wasn't tryin' ta' - Oh, why do I even bother? You girls are all tha' same! See ya' around, Rita!" Charley fumed, whipping around and storming off down the street.

Rita desperately wanted to run after him - so that she could continue yelling at him, of course - but instead turned and entered into their apartment through the doggy door, fuming herself.

"Dear Rita! We thought you would never come back! You stayed out such an awfully long time with that dreadful scoundrel!" Francis immediately greeted her.

"I'm fine, Frankie. I'm fine. Just got a little… caught up arguing with that jerk," Rita could practically feel the steam angrily hissing from her ears. She calmed herself down, though, and asked the English Bulldog in a much quieter voice, "…How's Einstein doing?"

"The poor old chap seems to be alright now. I might still leave him be for a while longer, but I believe he'll be fine," Francis whispered back to her, every bit as concerned as she was; he then added, in a louder, more casual voice, "Little Billy is here as well. You were correct, he did stay behind the entire time after all."

"That's good of him. Billy?" she called out to the tiny puppy, who looked up meekly when his name was called out, "Thank you for being well-behaved and staying behind like you should've."

"Y- Yes, Rita," Billy whimpered, then scampered off into the dark comfort of Fagin's bedroom, where no one would bother him. There, he didn't have to hear the snickers and giggles of his bigger brother and sisters. There, he could be alone.


	13. Back to the Streets

Chapter Thirteen

"Good afternoon, little bro."

"H-Huh? Wha'? A-Afternoon?" Oliver yawned and stretched out his front paws on the living room couch, "No way, I only took a quick catnap."

"Ya' were asleep for six hours, kid. Six hours. That ain't no catnap," Dodger grinned and threw his paws onto the couch cushion, leaning towards the cat.

"Well, sorry if you got bored."

"Oh no, ya' fine – I was just... I mean, ya' were sleepin' an'... Okay, I was _very_ bored."

"You could've hung out with Adena," the cat shrugged.

"I don't wanna' hang out with her, kid. I don't like her," Dodger jumped up on the couch with an angry huff, "Besides, she slept all mornin' too. Guess she was tired after sneakin' out _again_ last night."

"She went out last night, too?" Oliver's face grew worried, "Oh, I think she goes out more often than she stays in..."

"I ain't gonna' lie, kid, I think she's up ta' somethin'. I just don't trust her."

"Of course you don't trust her! You did just say you don't like her," Oliver scoffed at him, much to Dodger's surprise.

"But, bro, Adena is- "

"You guys talking about me?"

Dodger gritted his teeth together as the prissy little cat pranced up to him and Oliver, who quickly replied, "Yes, we were. But nothing bad."

"Didn't sound like that from _him_," Adena gave the dog a sour look.

"Oh, _Ollie_ an' I were just discussing your late night escapades. Care ta' contribute to tha' discussion?" Dodger smiled very innocently at her.

"Love to," she threw back, "I go out on the streets at nighttime to stretch my legs and have some fun. As nice as it is living in a mansion, it does get a little boring. I don't want to be cooped up in here all the time... do _you_, Dodger?"

"Yeah... do you, Dodger?" Oliver turned to his friend.

"I just overheard you say you were very bored. Anyone could tell you're getting tired of staying here," she glared at him, the challenge clear in her voice.

"...Okay. Maybe I am a little restless. But I been here for almost a week! Who could blame a dog for getting' bored, eh kiddo'?" Dodger casually shrugged off the issue.

The little orange cat, however, looked disappointed and turned his head away from Dodger, "If you're so _bored_, you can always leave."

"Oliver! C'mon, little bro, ya' know I- "

" -Dodger, I wanted you to stay with us so you'd be safe, not so you'd get bored. You told me how dangerous things are with the Kings, so I'm going to worry about you if you're out in the city!" Oliver pleaded with him, his tiny lip beginning to tremble.

"...Kid, it's true that tha city is dangerous, but ya' gotta' trust me ta' keep myself safe. I can't bear tha' thought of ya' worryin' over me. Remember my song, kid? Why should_ you_ worry?"

"Because you're supposed to worry about your loved ones," Oliver mewed and buried himself in the dog's fur. Dodger could feel a few tears escape the cat's eyes.

"Hey, hey, kid. It's alright," Dodger whispered, wrapping a paw around the shaking cat, "Don't ya' know them Kings don't stand a chance against New York's coolest quadruped?"

Oliver nodded, and a grin slowly emerged on his face; he snuggled against the dog and said, "I know they don't. If-If you _do_ go back to the streets... please be careful."

"Aww, but I'm usually so reckless!" Dodger teased, leaving their embrace to hop off the couch, "I will head back out, kid, but I promise ta' be careful. I'll steer clear of Lower Manhattan."

"Thanks, big bro," the cat beamed, then perked up and called, "Oh yeah! You also promised you would go see the Company again. You will see them, won't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I will. An' I'll come back here before long, too," the mongrel barked back, then left the living room and went to the doggy door at the back of the mansion with one last, "Later, kid."

* * *

Afternoon in the city meant the usual crowds of people, New Yorkers and tourists alike, racing to and fro all over the streets. It might have been overwhelming for a novice dog, but the Dodger was far more talented than any novice. He casually slipped in and out of the crowds and was off Fifth Avenue and out of the opulent Upper East Side in no time.

"I'll... I'll visit tha' Company later. I mean, I ain't even close ta' Chelsea..." Dodger reasoned to himself. After all, he was in the Upper Midtown right now – his old gang was simply too far away to visit at the moment.

"But I _do_ need ta' see tha' Steampunks again. Who knows what coulda' happened ta' them this past week?" the mutt muttered and glanced out at the oncoming traffic. When the cars slowed to a temporary stop, Dodger skillfully leapt atop one, then jumped from car top to car top until he landed on one driving him towards the Lower East Side of the city.

They sped through street after street, and Dodger changed cars a time or two, until he finally arrived in the right place. The dog hopped off and wove his way through alleys and down city blocks. At last, Dodger went off Lewis and onto Broome Street and found the condemned building that the Steampunks gang had been hiding out in.

The problem was, there were no dogs to be seen.

"Uh... hello? Guys? It's Dodger again. Wanted ta' check how ya' were doing," he woofed as he crept through the basement, "No sign of a struggle, so I don't guess tha' Kings attacked again... Guys? Skippy? Is _anyone_ here?"

But no dog answered. It was as if the Steampunks had all just decided to move to a new hiding spot without letting him know.

"Hope they're okay..." he sighed, then walked out of the deteriorated building and back to the streets.

He knew he couldn't risk going any further downtown towards the Two Bridges area, for that was now part of the Kings' enormous territory. So where would he go next? To the Company? The Scoundrels way up in Harlem?

Instead, Dodger began wandering up towards the East Village – far enough away from the Kings to stay safe, as he'd promised Oliver. His short stay with the Foxworths had left his stomach very full, so Dodger felt no need to steal any food. Just when he was starting to feel a little bored again, he spotted an attractive female dog further up the street.

"Ooh! _Heeeeello_!" he smirked and coolly strutted up beside her. She was a Vizsla-mix with short, dark brown fur and big floppy ears; when she noticed him, she flashed a flirtatious smile.

"Why, hi there, handsome!"

"Ah, a girl with good taste! I am truly flattered," he grinned at the Vizsla girl, "My name is Dodger. _The_ Dodger. Ever heard of me, baby?"

"Of course I have! You're tha' Dodger! Anyone with any sense has heard of _you_," she batted her eyes at him.

"Babe, I love ya' already! What's your name, sweetheart?"

"I'm Charlotte. It's what I always gone by on tha' streets," she explained, then nodded for him to follow her to a nearby alley, away from the crowds of New Yorkers.

"A beautiful name for a beautiful dog. Tell me, Charlotte, ya' always lived on tha' streets?"

"Always. It ain't exactly been easy, but I'm able to get by," Charlotte sighed, but her expression grew grimmer, "That is, til them Kings started making trouble."

"Ya' know about tha' Kings?"

"Of course I do. They chase me offa' their turf every time I steal food there," Charlotte shuddered at the thought of the gang, "That Razor's tha' worst of tha' bunch. I think he's their leader."

"Yeah, I met Razor. He's a real piece a' work. Listen, baby, I want ta' do somethin' about them. Do ya' know anythin' else about tha' Kings, or do ya' know any other gangs that might know?"

"I don't know nothing else, but... Hmm... other gangs..." Charlotte kicked around an empty soda pop can while she thought, "...I think there's a gang called tha' Ninjas here in tha' East Village... After them, you might ask tha' Bone-Crusher sissies. They're always patrolling Tribeca."

"That's great! Thanks, baby, I'll do that," Dodger eagerly ran out of the alley, but turned back around to wink at her and bark, "Stay outta' trouble, sweetheart, an' if ya' ever feel tha' need for a handsome mutt... come an' find me."

"I'm sure we'll meet again," she gave him a wink of her own and disappeared into the dark alleyway.

He was already in the East Village, so Dodger set about finding this dog gang called the Ninjas. He asked a couple dogs he passed on the streets, and eventually got a lead – the Ninjas could be found in Tompkins Square Park.

Dodger went from the Bowery to Saint Mark's until he arrived in the local park. He passed quite a few homeless men, but soon came across a small group of scruffy dogs by a cluster of trees and bushes in the middle of the park.

"Tha' Ninjas, I presume?" he greeted them with a friendly smile.

"You presume correctly, my friend," the oldest dog among them returned the smile, "I am Rats, the leader of our little gang. This is Leon, Ralph, Dan, and Mike."

"Pleased ta' meet ya'. My name is Dodger – tha' Artful Dodger. I just wanted ta' ask if ya' guys knew anythin' about a gang called tha' Kings."

Unfortunately, the Ninjas knew nothing that Dodger didn't already know. They were a small gang that preferred to keep to themselves, except when they saved innocent dogs from trouble. Dodger stayed with Rats and his gang only a little while longer, then said his goodbyes and left the park and its dogs behind him.

"Guess it's off ta' Tribeca for me. Charlotte baby said ta' ask them Bone-Crushers what they know," Dodger figured, jumping up to car surf his way towards the other side of Manhattan, "Aww, but every dog knows how lame tha' Bone-Crushers are! Oh well."

He sped through the city on his way to Tribeca; Dodger was well aware of how close he was coming to the King's territory in Lower Manhattan. He knew he had to be careful and keep himself safe – he'd promised Oliver.

* * *

Oliver stared out the window of the mansion library; it was a perfectly bright, beautiful evening in the bustling city, but the little cat felt so scared. He couldn't help but worry for his best friend, his big brother, all alone on the dangerous streets.

Mr. Foxworth sat on the library couch with his daughter and their prize-winning poodle. The man sighed and ran his hand through his gray hair, "I understand that he doesn't want to stay inside forever... but I wish my boy had stayed here longer. I miss him already."

"I miss him too, Daddy, and I know Oliver misses him the most. But Dodger wants his freedom out in the city," Jenny rested her head against her father's shoulders.

"You're right, sweetie," Mr. Foxworth smiled at her, then began to pet their poodle's fur, "But we can't fret over him for too long. We have to think about Georgette here. She has the National Dog Show Championship coming up in a few months!"

"I know she'll do well, Daddy!"

_I'll do more than well. I'm going to win and be Eight-Times-National-Champion!_ Georgette applauded herself and took several bows in her mind's eye. The Championship was always her favorite time of year.

Oliver, meanwhile, leapt off the windowsill and left the library to find Adena. He found her flopped out on the kitchen table – a very comfortable place to nap, he knew – and jumped up on the table to have a word with her.

"Adena... I'm so sorry about Dodger's attitude. I don't know why he doesn't like you, but I'm sure he really doesn't mean it."

"It's a nice sentiment, Oliver, but I think he really does. He's disliked me since the day he met me."

"Oh, Adena, I'm sorry for- "

" -For him? You don't have to apologize for him. But it's very sweet of you," Adena smiled, then leaned forward and gently licked him on the cheek, "Thanks for being so nice to me, Ollie."

She jumped down off the table and left the kitchen, but Oliver simply sat there. His head felt very giddy, and his cheeks felt very hot. No matter what Dodger thought, he was glad Adena was here with them.

Late that night, Adena snuck out of the mansion and onto the streets once again.


	14. The Siege to SoHo

Chapter Fourteen

"Hello, friend! And welcome to the humble abode of the Bone-Crushers!"

_I've made a terrible mistake_, Dodger forced himself to smile. The dog he was smiling at was a very large and very happy Golden Retriever, and the humble abode he referred to was, in fact, one of New York's construction yards.

"We're so glad you've come to see us!" the Golden Retriever positively beamed at him, "We almost never have any visitors!"

"Gee, I wonder why."

"So do I, friend. So do I," the big dog frowned, then immediately reverted back to his cheery, tongue-wagging smile, "Well, my name is Skull, and I'm the leader of our little gang here!"

Dodger gave another awkward smile and backed away a few steps. He had arrived in Tribeca not long ago and quickly found the construction yard that these Bone-Crushers called home. Although his plan was to visit as many dog gangs as possible, Dodger was now very much regretting having ever set a paw in this particular gang's turf.

"Yeah, okay... Look, Skull, I was just stoppin' by ta' ask if any of ya' have ever gotten any trouble from this one gang called tha' Kings."

"The Kings? Gee whiz, they do sound awfully familiar..." Skull pondered the question for a moment, then turned to his gang, "You fellas ever run into them?"

"Aren't they those really, really _mean_ dogs who never share their food?"

"The gang that's been intruding on our lower turf?"

"They're not very nice!"

"Um... Yeah, that's – that's them. Do you guys, uh, know anythin' about 'em?" Dodger asked the dogs gathered around him and Skull, "Ya' seen this big German Shepherd named Razor? Ever been attacked by tha' gang before?"

The Bone-Crushers all simply blinked at him, very dumbfounded.

"No? Um, well... I've learned bit about 'em already. Tha' Kings run in Lower Manhattan – Financial District an' Chinatown, y'know? - _very_ close ta' your territory here," the red-scarfed mutt slowly explained to Skull, who had a blank look on his face, "I just think they might attack ya' next, 'cause ya' so close ta' them. Savvy?"

The Retriever just kept staring at him, pink tongue lolling and tail wagging happily. Dodger was getting rather fed up with these dogs, and he looked from Skull to the other mutts. They all had the same blissfully happy air about them – and then something caught Dodger's eye.

"Why's that guy wearin' a _collar_?" he nodded at one of the dogs in the crowd, "Wait... so is that guy! An' _him_ over there! An' _that_ dog!"

"Oh, their owners make them wear those collars. We think it's so the people know whose dog is whose!"

"So ya' don't even live on tha' streets?"

"Not all of us, silly! Some of us live in nice, warm homes. In fact, you fellas better be heading home soon!" the leader happily woofed at the collared dogs.

"But aren't ya' a _gang_? Don't ya' steal food ta' eat an' keep other gangs away?"

The big Golden Retriever gave a hearty, cheerful laugh, "Goodness, that would be so mean of us! No, no, we welcome every dog, and we get fed by the nice people who come work in this yard!"

"Why do ya' call yourselves tha'_ Bone-Crushers _if ya' ain't a real gang?"

"Because we thought it would be funny! We like to make dogs laugh," Skull beamed at him.

Dodger didn't even force a smile this time; he shook his head in dismay and disgust, then hastily walked away from Skull and his so-called gang, "Okay... ya' guys – ya' guys just watch out for tha' Kings, alright? Stay outta' their way."

"Aww, are you leaving already? We were just about to have a sing-along!"

"Yeah, sorry, I think my songs are a_ little_ too cool for ya'," Dodger smirked, then leapt up onto a yellow digging machine and jumped over the construction yard fence, "Check ya' later... or not."

He was quick to disappear into the Tribeca streets, keen on putting as much distance between him and that "gang" as possible. Dodger hopped up on a taxi cab and sped off through his city.

"Uggh, I think I need ta' jump in tha' East River ta' wash tha' lame offa' me," Dodger grumbled as he car surfed down the street, "Wearin' collars an' gettin' fed by tha' workers... They ain't no street dogs."

* * *

Another long summer day passed in New York City, and over in the East Village, the Ninjas were settling in for the evening like they always did. Wise old Rats made sure that all the dogs in his gang were safe and sound in their city park, then settled himself down on the comfortable leaves and grass. The melodic rhythm and beat of the city all around them never failed to lull the Ninjas to sleep.

However, the loud city noises also covered the quiet snapping of twigs and the crunching of paws on leaves. Quietly, viciously, a score of dogs surrounded the sleeping gang.

All at once, the attackers erupted into booming barks and growls. The Ninjas bolted awake and went on the defense as quickly as they could, but it wasn't quick enough. The Kings were too great in number, ans they soon overpowered the small gang in a frenzy of teeth, claws, and snarls. Poor old Rats had fought quite a few fights in his prime, but he and his gang were now outnumbered and outmatched.

Rats watched some of his dogs cower, some of his dogs fight, and most of his dogs flee for their lives. The poor old leader was overwhelmed in the fight – and then he found himself face-to-face with an enormous, sneering German Shepherd.

"How could you – How did you find- " poor Rats cowered in fear.

"Thank tha' Dodge," the German Shepherd breathed, grinning from ear to ear.

That very same night, on the other side of Manhattan, the Bone-Crushers were all finishing up their nightly sing-alongs and games of tag around the construction yard. The collared dogs in the gang had all gone home for the night, and Skull and the other street dogs were ready for sleepy time.

Now, Skull was always very friendly to any dog that wandered into their Tribeca construction yard – after all, how would he make friends if he wasn't friendly? – so when Skull heard the noise of dogs' paws crunching over dirt and gravel, approaching him and his gang, he cheerily greeted, "Hello, friends! We're so glad you've come to see us!"

In a matter of seconds, the Kings were upon the dogs who had never fought a day in their lives. The Kings quickly overcame them by sheer number – and each and every invading dog was a hulking brute. They were being led by a young, fearsome Doberman, whose short black fur was covered in scrapes and scars.

"Tribeca is ours," the fierce Doberman Pinscher growled at the poor, terrified Bone-Crusher dogs, "So get off our territory."

"P-Please, c-can't we all _share_?" Skull whimpered and gave a weak smile.

The young Doberman marched up to the trembling Retriever and glared at him through bloodshot eyes. He gave a deep growl and snarled, "Survivors. Don't. Share."

He then loudly barked, echoing across the yard and sending poor Skull and the last of his lame, sissy Bone-Crushers running for their lives.

But the night beat on, and soon the barks and growls of the vicious gang were lost to the thundering noises of the city – honks from car horns, lonely cries in the night, and defeated whimpers from dogs who just lost what they'd called home.

* * *

"I can't believe this happened!"

"Oh, what are we gonna' do?"

"They just attacked 'em without warnin'! What kind of dogs- "

" -control so much of Downtown now- "

"Everyone, _QUIET_!" an enormous Rottweiler roared over the crowd of fearful, frantic dogs below him. The mutters came to a halt and all the dogs looked up at Skippy standing atop a rusty, broken-down car in the dark, trashed-up back alley.

"Listen up. Ya' all know by now that tha' Kings made their boldest move yet last night," Skippy solemnly announced to the dogs in the alley, "That's right. Tha' Kings have driven out two more gangs – tha' Ninjas an' tha' Bone-Crushers – an' now they've claimed most of Downtown as their turf."

When their leader confirmed this horrifying news, all the street mutts and mongrels once again began muttering and barking and shouting in terror.

"Quiet down! _Quiet_! Hush up!" Skippy barked, but his commands were unheard over the roars of the crowd. He groaned in frustration, then took a deep breath and let out one tremendous, echoing bark.

The crowd of dogs all stopped talking.

"_Yes_! Tha' Kings have taken a lotta' territory! They even stole our own turf!" the Rottweiler looked down at what was left of his Steampunks, "But it ain't over, boys! We ain't no lapdogs, an' we ain't beaten yet!"

Some of the dogs in the crowd woofed their approval, a few gave confident barks, but most of them remained nervously silent. One brave dog spoke out, "But Skippy, the Kings attacked two gangs in one night! _Two_ gangs!"

"Not two. Three."

Gasps erupted from the crowd and heads turned to stare at the dog who had spoken. The mutt was panting, his breathing heavy, and he almost staggered into the grim alleyway; his body was scarred and his fur was ripped and torn. The dog's eyes, looking straight up at Skippy, were fearful and urgent.

"What are ya' sayin'? A _third_ gang was driven out?" Skippy's own eyes widened in horror.

"They... came in the m-middle of the night..." the attacked dog coughed and nearly fell over, but managed to steady himself, "I'm from the Houstonians... We ran in SoHo – never gave any dog any trouble – but the K-Kings... Why would they do this?"

"We don't really know. Right now it looks like they're expanding their territory."

"_Expanding_ their territory? They've expanded their territory all the way up to Houston! Isn't that enough _territory_ for them?" the poor dog barked before collapsing on the concrete in exhaustion.

All of the weary mutts in the alleyway looked up to their strong, respected lead dog, the Rottweiler who stood tall on the car, protectively overlooking his gang.

But to their dismay, Skippy had nothing to say to them. His eyes watered, his lip trembled, and he hung his head low in grief and anguish for all the dogs who had been ferociously attacked that night.

Word spread fast on the streets of New York, and in a few short days, all of the strays in the city knew about the Kings' three attacks in one night. Among the street dogs and mutts, the alley cats and the house doggies, that night came to be known as the Siege to SoHo.

After that night, Downtown New York was ruled by kings with an iron grasp.


	15. Reputation

Chapter Fifteen

The Rottweiler paced through the alley until the gravelly concrete began to sting at his tough paws; he was panting not out of exhaustion, but from a terrible nervousness plaguing his mind. What was he to do?

The dogs hidden in the Midtown alleyway all looked up to him for leadership and guidance in their fight for survival. Although a few members of his gang had fled the night they were attacked, most of his Steampunks remained dutifully loyal – and those Steampunks needed him now more than ever.

That whole morning had been agony for Skippy, his mind flooded with questions – Would the Kings attack them again? What did he need to do in case they did? And how would his dogs survive if the whole city fell under the Kings' control?

"Skippy?" the smallest dog in his gang shyly asked, "W-What do we do now?"

"...We gotta' stay safe. More than anythin', I gotta' keep ya' all safe," the large Rottweiler smiled down at her, then announced to the rest of the dogs, "Three different gangs lost their homes last night. Now, I need ta' find these poor dogs. I want ta' bring 'em here, if they'll agree to it, an' I hope they can find a new home with us. I want 'em safe. I want to keep _all_ of 'em safe."

The mutts in the alley, so frightened and so scared, felt their hearts lift hearing him say that. They happily barked and woofed, but then one dog spoke up, "Wait – ya' not gonna' leave us here all alone, are ya'?"

"I have ta'. I have ta' find those poor gangs," Skippy solemnly nodded to the one who'd posed the question, "While I'm gone, ya' all gotta' watch out for each other. Fight off any strange dog that approaches ya', okay? Keep each other safe."

"B-But Skippy, we're scared!"

"We need you with us!"

"I know, guys. I know. But right now, out in tha' city, there are dogs that need me with 'em even more," he explained to his beloved gang and walked away toward the alley's exit, "I'll be back here before ya' know it!"

Skippy smiled back at them, then left the alleyway for the busy streets of Midtown New York – not the riverfront home that he knew and loved, but a temporary refuge to keep his dogs safe.

He knew that when he found the three gangs, they would be hiding like his remaining Steampunks were, and who could blame them? Right now, hiding from the Kings seemed like every street dog's best option.

After what felt like an hour of combing the city streets and asking every stray mutt he met if they had seen a gang in hiding, any group of refugees, he finally found a lead. Sure enough, when Skippy entered the Flatiron District and made his way to Madison Square Park, he found the hiding dogs.

Of course, he was immediately greeted with furious growls, snarls, and barks.

"Get away from us!"

"Ya' already took our home turf!"

"Whoa, whoa! Guys, I'm not here ta' attack ya'!" Skippy quickly explained, "I'm not from tha' Kings! My gang got driven out just like yours did!"

"And why should we believe you?" the oldest dog among them, who looked to be their leader, regarded him with a suspicious glare.

"Well... I guess ya' shouldn't. Ya' just got ruthlessly attacked – I understand that. Same thing happened ta' my Steampunks over a week ago," Skippy bowed his head to them and approached the dogs no further, "Of course ya' suspicious. But all I wanna' do is help ya'. I wanna' keep ya' safe from them Kings."

The gang did not drop their defensive stance, but then their old leader slowly stepped forward and smiled at him, "I believe you speak the truth... you are humble and caring. My name is Rats, leader of the Ninjas. We welcome you."

"Thanks, Rats. My name is Skippy. Like your gang, my Steampunks are hidin' from tha' Kings. We both got attacked, so I think we need ta' stick together from now on. Will you guys come with me ta' my gang?"

The Ninjas considered his proposal for a moment, then Rats bowed and spoke, "We would be honored to."

"Great! That's great! But listen... two other gang were attacked last night – tha' Bone-Crushers an' tha' Houstonians. First, I gotta' find 'em both an' ask if they'll join us too."

"It is a noble cause you lead, Skippy. My dogs will accompany you on your way – the greater our numbers, the stronger we are," Rats nodded for his gang to follow the Rottweiler out of Madison Square Park and onto the city sidewalks.

While the small group of dogs walked down the street, old Rats whispered one more thing to him, "...You should know that our gang was _sold out_ to the Kings by one dog in particular. The night before we were attacked, this dog found our park hideout. In other words, he had found my gang's location."

Skippy felt his stomach twist in a knot, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then asked, "But how can ya' be sure this dog sold ya' out? Do ya' have proof?"

"I do. The night the Kings struck, one of them gloated about the traitor. He said to _thank the Dodge_ for the attack."

"Dodger. It was Dodger... _again_," Skippy fumed, then explained himself, "Tha' same day my gang was attacked – tha' very same day! – that Dodger had come ta' our secret hideout. I had only suspected him before, but now- "

"Now we know," Rats said in a low growl, "But perhaps we should ask the other gangs if they had similar encounters with the Dodger before we jump to conclusions."

"Yeah, ya' right. Man, I don't wanna' believe it... I thought Dodger was a good dog. I really did," Skippy sighed, continuing on down the trashed and gravelly sidewalk.

Once Skippy and the Ninjas had walked and searched the city for another long stretch of time, they managed to locate a second group of dogs in hiding. Actually, these refugees weren't hidden very well at all – they were rather conspicuously gathered in front of the enormous, white marble arch in Washington Square Park.

"Hello, friends! We're so glad you've come to see us!" a beaming Golden Retriever came to greet them, "I really hope you fellas aren't the Kings here to attack us again!"

"No, no, we're not tha' Kings. We were both ambushed by them like ya' were. My name is Skippy, an' this here guy is Rats. We wanna' help ya'."

"You can believe him. I was initially suspicious as well, but good Skippy truly does wish to aid you," Rats was quick to support his new ally.

"Oh, yes, I can tell how nice you are! You aren't a meanie like the Doberman who attacked me!" the Retriever happily wagged his tail, "My name is Skull, and we're the Bone-Crushers! Isn't it a funny name, friend?"

"Uh... yeah. Hilarious!" Skippy gave a big grin and a hearty laugh. It seemed to please Skull, "So ya' said a Doberman attacked ya'? Did ya' happen ta' see another dog there – a terrier mutt with brown, white, an' gray fur? Wears a red bandana?"

"I know who you're talking about!"

"You do? Did he attack ya' last night?"

"Oh, no. He came and visited us the night before!"

Skippy's eyes widened; he exchanged a look with Rats and could see that they were both thinking the very same thing.

"Skull, that dog's name is Dodger... an' he's tha' one who told tha' Kings ya' gang's location."

"What? How _terrible_! Oh, I can't believe he would do that to us!" Skull looked completely blown away, hurt and betrayed – like a child who had just now learned what it meant to be deceived, "But now that I think back on it, he _did_ seem a little mean. He told us to watch out for the Kings. He said to stay out of their way."

"Maybe that wasn't a warning. Maybe that was a _threat_," Rats growled furiously.

"So Dodger can't be trusted..."

"Dodger is tha' enemy," Skippy said to a saddened Skull, then spoke to all of the Bone-Crusher dogs, "Will ya' guys join us? We want every dog tha' Kings have attacked to be safe, and we'll be safe if we stick together."

His offer was instantly and eagerly accepted in a round of happy woofs and barks. While the dogs mixed and mingled into one large group, Skull explained that all the collared dogs had left his gang to stay with their families. Finally, Skippy led them all out of the park and back into the city.

He reasoned that the last of the three gangs couldn't be that far away. Skippy knew that the Houstonians would've fled uptown from the Kings, heading somewhere in Greenwich Village. Of course, the area had a gang all it's own, but every dog knew to give the notoriously large and infamously unfriendly Villagers a wide berth.

So where would the Houstonians have gone? If the Kings had forced them out of SoHo, then they must've gone up to...

"NoHo. I bet they're in NoHo," Skippy announced to his dogs. It didn't take them long to arrive in the small burough, but the problem was locating the hiding gang. Skippy eventually caught the scent of a large group of dogs and led his gangs across Broadway and over to Astor Place. They found the gang inside a run-down warehouse that lay forgotten between all the wealthy residences.

"Nah, we never seen that Dodger fella' before. Didn't see him before, during, or after tha' attack," the leader of the Houstonians answered.

"Then you had better watch out for him. We know he's a spy for the Kings," Rats growled his warning.

"We will. Thanks for tha' tip-off," the gang leader nodded to the old dog, "So what gang are ya' guys, anyways? There's so many of ya', I thought ya' were them Villagers."

"No, we're... Well, I'm from tha' Steampunks, an' these guys are tha' Ninjas – but them over there are tha'..." Skippy began to explain but paused mid-sentence, and then, "...Actually, ya' can call us tha' Refugees. We all been driven out too, so won't ya' join us?"

"Tha' Refugees, huh? Thanks, but no thanks. We Houstonians like to do things by ourselves... but I appreciate ya'."

"Sure, I understand," Skippy smiled to the gang, then nodded for his own gang to leave the warehouse, "Ya' stay safe, okay? You're awfully close ta' tha' Kings' turf here."

"Oh, we know. We like ta' keep our enemies close."

Skippy, Rats, and Skull exited their warehouse and soon left NoHo far behind them. It would be a very long trek back to his Midtown hideout, but Skippy felt energized from getting so many dogs to join his cause – that morning he'd had one gang behind him, and now he had three.

"So, Skippy... we're the _Refugees_?" Rats grinned to him as they walked.

"Yes we are. I mean, we ain't divided no more. Bone-Crusher or Ninja, Steampunk or stray, we're all together now. We're tha' Refugees now."

"I like the name!" Skull gleefully chimed in.

"Glad ya' do, friend. I figured it suited us," Skippy laughed, then stopped walking and looked over all his recruits, "Tha' Kings think they can take over tha' city, but they're dead wrong! We ain't gonna' let 'em!"

* * *

"Why should I worry? Why should I care? I may not have a dime, but I got- "

"_Dodger_! I been lookin' all over for ya'!"

The red-scarfed mutt felt slightly annoyed that his beautiful song was interrupted, but he was nonetheless glad to see the Bullmastiff running over to him, "Hey, hey, Noah buddy! Waz' up?"

"Dodger, it's... it's tha' Kings. They struck _again_," Noah panted and flopped down exhausted on the sidewalk beside a trash bin.

"What? Whaddid' they do? Did they attack a gang?"

"I- I know they drove tha' Houstonians out of SoHo an' up into NoHo..." Noah sighed miserably, "...I heard rumors that other gangs got hit, but I don't know which ones. Dodger, tha' Kings have completely taken over Lower Manhattan. Downtown is theirs now... it happened two nights ago. Dogs call it tha' Siege to SoHo."

"Tha' Siege... I don't believe it... I just don't believe it!" Dodger barked and furiously kicked over the trash bin, causing garbage to spill out and several human passers-by to scoff and call him a dirty mutt. Dodger fiercely growled at them.

"Hey, man, c'mon... They're just dumb humans."

"I hate it, Noah! I hate tha' Kings an' I hate what they're doing! They can't just take _my_ city away from me – from everyone! New York City is for _every_ dog an' cat ta' roam free in!"

"Well, tha' Kings seem to disagree," Noah shook his head in dismay, "Dodger, what are ya' gonna do?"

"I'm gonna' find tha' Kings an' I'm gonna' – I mean, I'll... I need ta' help those gangs that got attacked," Dodger decided, then asked his friend, "Didn't ya' say tha' Houstonians were over in NoHo now?"

"Yeah, I did. Good luck, Dodger. An' watch out for yourself..." Noah warned him before he ran off, "...New York ain't tha' same city anymore."

"I know. That's what I hate more than' anythin'."

He leapt up on top of a taxi cab and sped away from Noah, sped off through the streets. The Kings could take the city, but that didn't stop Dodger from knowing his way around it. He was soon in NoHo, and he jumped off his car to find the gang.

Luckily, he was quick to spot a couple dogs further up the street who looked pretty beaten up – they had to be the ones he was looking for.

"Hey, guys! Are ya' tha' Houstonians?" he began to approach them, "Guys, I wanna' help ya' out. I heard about- "

"It's the Dodger!"

"Get him!"

"What? _No_! No, I'm here ta' _help_! What are ya' doing?" Dodger gasped in horror as the dogs began barking and charging and him.

Dodger had no choice but to turn around and take off running from the Houstonian dogs. He bolted down the street, bumping through the crowds of New Yorkers and tourists, racing away as fast as he could.

He couldn't believe he was being chased again – but these weren't the Kings. These were just street dogs like him, so what was going on? Dodger darted into an alleyway and dove into another one, then slid between two buildings and came out the other side; when he was finally sure he had lost his pursuers, he stopped to catch his breath.

He was safe, but he still had no idea what had happened. He didn't know what was happening to him or his city.


End file.
